Power Ball
by Glee Let Me Down
Summary: All Sam wants for his 18th birthday is Kurt. When the two best friends win the lottery together and move to New York, he wonders if he'll finally get what he wants this year. Because Sam is tired of Sebastian Smythe being his only option...
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys. I've been really upset with the lack of Kum/Hevans in my life. I haven't written Kum in a really long time, and I recently realized how much I miss it. So, here's an idea I've been toying around with. Please review and share!**

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><p>Every great love story involved a kiss. Sam Evans knew that. He knew that's what it would take – a kiss – to make all of his feelings relevant. No matter what happened before or after, if he could get Kurt to kiss him, no one could ever tell him he was delusional. Just knowing Kurt wanted him just for a second: that would be real enough. He'd be satisfied for the rest of his life.<p>

"Make a wish…" Finn told Sam excitedly, his voice like a child's.

Sam sat at the end of the Hudson-Hummel table; the spot that Burt usually claimed as his "throne". In the dim light of the birthday candles, he could make out Kurt's face from across the room. Like everyone else, Kurt was watching him, grinning expectantly. He leaned forward and blew lightly on the eighteen flames, slowly putting each of them out. The family applauded. Burt flicked on the lights, and Carole took the cake out from in front of him.

"You guys, thanks, this is great…" Sam made sure to say. "If I can't be with my real family today, I'm glad I can be with people who care as much as my real family."

"Actually, I like to think we care more," Kurt grinned playfully, coming over and sliding into the seat next to his.

Sam chuckled nervously. He was far too aware of Kurt's proximity. "Oh, I'm sure you do," He nodded, humoring him.

"So, between you and me…" Kurt went on, leaning in closer and whispering. "…You didn't wish for another X-men movie, did you? Because I think that's going to happen with or without your influence."

Sam smiled goofily. "No, it was nothing like that, believe me…"

"Don't lie to me, Evans," Kurt warned him. "I know you better than that."

Sam licked his lip as Carole placed the first slice of cake in front of him. "You wish you did, Hummel."

Kurt laughed cutely. He shook his head and reached forward, sticking his pinky-finger in Sam's frosting and licking it off. He then flew out of his seat and wandered over to the counter to speed the process of getting his own piece along. Sam chuckled, bowing his head and sticking his fork in.

* * *

><p>"Now, it's not much…" Mrs. Evan's voice echoed through the basement from the speakers of Kurt's laptop. Sam had set a birthday Skype date with his family nearly a month in advance, and it felt so good to finally communicate with them all at once.<p>

Sam eagerly pulled the plain blue wrapping paper from the small gift his parents had shipped to him earlier in the week. He opened the box to find a thick silver wrist-watch.

"It's kind of a tradition in the family," His father told him proudly before he could react. "That's a real man's watch. I got one from my father on my eighteenth birthday; he got one from his. I wanted to get you one a little nicer, but…"

Sam interrupted his dad, not wanting to hear the end of the sentence. It killed him when his parents apologized for their situation. He knew how hard they tried. "Guys this is great…" He said, putting the watch on right away. It was a little loose, but he hoped they wouldn't notice.

"Do you like it, Sammy?" Stevie said, his distorted face taking over Sam's screen as he leaned into the camera.

"We helped pick it out!" Stacy cried, trying to push her brother out of the way.

Sam felt a pang in his chest. It was so hard for him to go from practically raising his brother and sister to not being there for them at all. "Guys, it's perfect. I'll never be late to Glee Club rehearsal again."

Sam's parents laughed. "We're happy to help you out." Mr. Evans said, grabbing his younger son by the shoulders, and pulling him away from the screen.

"Well, we have to put these two to bed. Is there anything else you wanted to discuss with us?" Mrs. Evans asked.

"No. Life's pretty dull around here."

"And they're feeding you?" She teased sweetly.

"Yes, mom, they're feeding me…" Sam promised. "Too much, actually. I've gained, like, five pounds since Christmas."

"That's good to hear."

Sam took one last look at his brother and sister, reminding himself that in a month it would be graduation, and he'd be with them again. "Goodnight guys! Be good, okay?"

"Okay," Stacy said immediately.

Stevie seemed distracted. His mother had to tap him on the shoulder. "Okay!" He said quickly.

"We love you," Mrs. Evans told him.

"Love you too…" Sam said.

And then they disconnected. Sam sighed sadly, leaning back in his desk chair. Back in December, returning to McKinley had seemed like the only way he could keep sane. Now, he wondered if he'd just given up. He'd been working, babysitting, doing housework. Moving into the Hudson-Hummel house had allowed him to abandon all that responsibility.

He shut Kurt's laptop and stood up, tucking it under his arm. He wasn't going to make himself feel guilty; not tonight. He climbed up the two flights of stairs to Kurt's room, choosing instead to focus on his birthday wish.

When he was just outside Kurt's room, he was stopped in his tracks by the sound of Kurt's voice.

"No, I'm not!" He was shouting, probably on the phone. "If anything, you're the one being unreasonable! You can't throw a fit every time I make plans without you!"

Sam held his breath, paranoid that Kurt might hear him breathing or something.

"I don't think I need to apologize for! You sprung this on me at the last minute! …Well, fine. Talk to you later then. Bye."

There was a loud thud, and Sam wondered if Kurt had just thrown his phone at the wall.

"…Shit…" Kurt cursed.

Sam then took the opportunity to knock on his door, kind of wanting to be the one to console him.

"You okay?" He asked, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him. Kurt was in the middle of picking his phone up off the floor, which confirmed Sam's earlier suspicion.

"I'm fine," Kurt huffed, walking onto his bed and falling on top of the covers. "I just told Blaine about your party this weekend, and he had the nerve to ask us to reschedule. Apparently his grandparents are in town and I was supposed to meet them. This is the first he's mentioned it."

"I'm sorry. That's rough," Sam said. He'd forgotten how bad he actually was at consoling people. He walked over to Kurt's desk. "I brought your laptop back."

"I can see that," Kurt said smartly, watching Sam set it down. "I mean…thanks. How are you parents?"

"They're great!" Sam told him. He held up his arm. "They sent me a watch."

"It's loose." Kurt told him as the watch slid slightly down Sam's forearm. "But that doesn't matter. You can get it sized at the mall."

Sam nodded, examining the fit once again. "Yeah, I guess." When he looked back up at Kurt, he was starring at the wall, a thoughtful scowl on his face, his arms folded across his chest. "You all right there?"

Sam had hoped his visit to Kurt's room tonight would consist of witty banter that he could choose to interpret as flirting to give him a sense of false hope so he could end his birthday on a high note. He hadn't anticipated Kurt to be in such a bad mood. It sort of put a damper on things.

Kurt took a deep breath, then pasted on a smile. "It's a stressful time, you know?" He said lightly. "I think Blaine and I are both realizing that we have an expiration date. I mean, I guess we don't have to break up when I go to New York but even if we stay together things have to change."

"Yeah…" Sam stared at a spot on the carpet. He wished that Kurt could offer a different explanation for why he was having problems with Blaine, because as of now, the reason Blaine and Kurt weren't working out was the same reason he and Kurt wouldn't work out. It's not like he had the money to go to college; especially not out of state. He planned on going back to Kentucky after school let out and just staying there. At least Blaine and Kurt would only be apart for a year before Blaine got some sort of ticket to go out and join his boyfriend.

"But…I shouldn't be talking about this," Kurt said quickly. "God, you don't want to hear about my relationship problems! It's your birthday!"

"It's fine…" Sam half lied. Part of him was thrilled that Kurt had been so open with him since they started living under the same room. Part of him was terrified, though, that Kurt viewed him as a brother.

"It's not fine!" Kurt jumped up off the bed. "I almost forgot to give you your present!"

"You already got me a present," Sam smiled. He'd opened his new _Call of Duty _game that morning.

"My parents and Finn got you a present," Kurt corrected him, rushing over to the desk and tugging open one of the drawers. "I, however, did not think a video game that promotes warfare to children was an appropriate gift."

"You're not going to try and dress me again, are you?" Sam grinned, remembering the time Kurt had made him model his hand-me-downs in his motel room. Any fashion-related gift from Kurt Hummel was bound to be tedious.

"No. I'm not," Kurt said, extracting an envelope from the drawer and walking it over to his friend. "Now, I want you to be aware of the fact that the content of this envelope is not your gift," He said strongly before handing it over.

Sam chuckled, raising his eyebrows skeptically. "What…?"

Kurt shook his head. "Your present is the pact we are going to make concerning these contents."

"Stop it," Sam laughed. "You're being weird."

Kurt sighed, and held out the unsealed envelope. Sam peeked inside it to find two lottery tickets. There was one scratch-off ticket and one with numbers for the mega-million draw.

"You're one of my best friends, Sam." Kurt told him genuinely. Sam's cheeks flushed, and his heart skipped a beat at the sound of Kurt asserting that he cared about him at all. "My birthday gift to you is a promise that we'll share equally whatever comes out of that envelope."

Sam pulled out the scratch-off ticket. "Do you do this for all your friends when they turn eighteen?"

Kurt shrugged, shaking his head. "Honestly, it never occurred to me until now. I mean, out of everyone I know, you're the person who could use lottery money the most."

Sam nodded, choosing to believe that Kurt's willingness to share a potential fortune with him meant more than just a fleeting thought. Not that it mattered. The chances of them winning the lottery were slim to none. "You gotta coin?"

Kurt walked back to the desk and came back with a quarter from his change bowl. Sam walked over to the bed, and set the ticket down on the nightstand. The ticket had three separate boxes. The instructions told him to scratch out two of them, and the two that he scratched would tell him what he won. On a whim, he quickly scratched off the first two boxes on the top. The first read "$0" and the second read "$2".

"Two whole dollars…" Kurt said pleasantly. "Think of all we can buy with that."

Sam laughed, standing up and handing it back to Kurt. "You can have it. Think of it as money back."

"Thank you," Kurt smiled, taking the ticket without argument. "But don't let this get you down. They read out Mega-Millions tomorrow night."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah…I'll count on that," He said sarcastically.

Kurt shook his head, his chin in the air, feigning confidence. "You never know. Sometimes life throws you a bone."

But in Sam's experience, it never had.

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><p>At work the next day, Sam couldn't stop thinking about it; about how great it would be not only to win the lottery; but to win the lottery with Kurt. It was a stupid fantasy, he knew, but he couldn't stop picturing what it would be like to go to New York with him; to live in adjacent loft apartments; to share gourmet meals whenever they felt like it. They were happy thoughts that consumed Sam to the point that he wasn't even paying attention to the members of the country club that he was supposed to be paying attention to. Luckily, he was just busing at the moment, so not much attention was necessary.<p>

"Hey there, doll face,"

The smooth, familiar voice sent a tremor through Sam's body. He clenched his teeth and focused on the table he was wiping. Was that a spot of ketchup in the corner?

He could feel Sebastian creeping up on him. His blood went cold as his slow footsteps grew closer.

"You're not caddying today?" Sebastian asked. "That's too bad. I was hoping for some quality time."

"They needed help in the dining room." Sam replied, not holding back on hostility. If anyone could take him out of his happy place, it was this guy.

"Oh, well, they'll set you free if I put in a special request," Sebastian promised him smugly. "After all, I'm paying good money. I should get what I want."

"It's your father's money, Sebastian," Sam reminded him, smirking knowingly.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "I'm going to get it all when he dies anyway."

"Right," Sam mumbled, straightening up as he finished the table and throwing his rag over his shoulder as he moved on to the next one. Not surprisingly, Sebastian followed him.

"Look, Sam, I'm not trying to be a douche bag or anything," The skinny boy tried unconvincingly. "I like you. I think you're a hard worker, and you deserve tips only a Smythe can give you."

"Right…" Sam was doing his best to ignore him.

"So, I say you caddy for me, I give you that good tip you deserve, and then we go back to my place and have some fun…"

Sam finally looked Sebastian in the eye, horrified. "Dude, do you realize what you're asking me to do?"

Sebastian blinked back at Sam for a minute, then reached forward and grabbed the salt shaker from the table Sam was working on. He unscrewed it, and slowly poured the contents onto the table top.

"You missed a spot," He said, putting the empty salt shaker back down. "Have fun in the _dining room_."

Sam watched as Sebastian stormed off. He sighed, looking back at the table and sizing up the salty mess Sebastian had left. He took his rag off his shoulder and leaned over the table to clean it up.

* * *

><p>Sam's shift ended at seven. He changed out of his uniform in a bathroom stall, and put on a simple jeans and T-shirt. He knew Kurt would get on his case for dressing so simply for an event as extravagant as his birthday party, but he never felt comfortable in the clothes Kurt liked on him.<p>

"I'm not going to insult you." Kurt said to Sam when he arrived at Brittany's house. Speaking over the loud dance music that pounded through the living room, it was almost as if he'd rehearsed his declaration of acceptance. "This is your party. You could've worn a trash bag and I would've kept my mouth shut."

"This is what you call keeping your mouth shut?" Sam teased.

Before Kurt could answer, a slender pair of arms flew out of nowhere and slid around Sam's neck.

"There you are!" Quinn slurred, pressing her nose into his cheek. He laughed uncomfortably and shot Kurt a questioning look. "I just want you to know…I'm not going to have sex with you just because I'm drunk and it's your birthday."

Kurt shrugged apologetically. "I told them all we should wait for you but they wanted to pre-game."

Sam nodded understandingly. "I'm not going to try to have sex with you, Quinn," He laughed, gently patting Quinn's head. "You're not exactly my type anymore."

"Well why not!" Quinn pulled herself away from him, furious. "I'm so smart! I'm going to Yale, you know! You know that's where the smart people go…like Natalie Portman."

"Natalie Portman went to Harvard," Kurt corrected her. She flashed him a livid glare.

Sam smiled gently, placing his hands on her shoulders. "We're really proud of you, Quinn."

Quinn's face softened. "You are…?"

"Yes," Sam nodded, feeling like he was talking to a child. "I'm so proud of you. Now, this is what's going to happen: I'm going to take a shot. Then, I'm going to take another shot…"

"Dear Lord…" Kurt contributed.

"…And then you and I are going to hit the dance floor,"

Quinn liked the idea. She stuck her fist in the air and screamed, "Woo!"

Kurt clasped a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Don't forget to thank Brittany for getting rid of her parents."

"I can't make any promises," Sam said, scanning the room and finally finding the collection of bottles on the coffee table. "I might be too drunk to remember."

"Okay then…" Kurt mumbled. He gave Sam's shoulder a final pat, and shoved him on his way.

Six shots of spiced rum later (he'd been on a roll), Sam was standing in the middle of the Pierce's living room feeling like dancing was what he was born to do. He and Quinn rubbed up against each other with what, to the naked eye, could seem like grand determination.

"Guess what…?" He finally thought to tell her in the middle of a song.

"You're coming to Yale with me?" Quinn asked eagerly, her face lighting up.

"Hell no…!" Sam snapped. "Kurt and I are going to be financially interdependent!"

"What…?" She grabbed his shoulders and bent her back, giggling randomly up to the ceiling.

"It's a term of… of expression, Quinn," Sam tried. "It means Kurt's going to take care of me and…I'm going to take care of Kurt."

"Yeah…take care of your….penises…" Quinn mumbled roughly.

"What…?" Sam cackled. "You're crazy Quinn."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, pulling herself closer to Sam. "I'm dizzy Quinn…" She told him.

He laughed again. It seemed that laughter was something he could no longer control. He held her waist as she led him over to the couch. They fell down at the end of it, ignoring the fact that they were sitting on the feet of Brittany and Santana, who were laying along the length of it, hard-core making out.

Quinn sighed, resting her head on Sam's shoulder. "I've missed you," She told him. "You're too nice. Can we be friends again?"

"Of course we can," Sam said, becoming distracted.

Kurt was across the room with Rachel. They were standing side by side against the wall, each of them holding a classy-looking martini glass. Kurt looked so great in his skinny jeans. Sam bit his lip, as he ran his eyes down the length of his leg. Then, he looked back at his face; his confident smile; his sparkling eyes.

"I love him, Quinn," He heard himself say.

"Hmmm…" Quinn was almost asleep on top of him.

Suddenly, Kurt's head turned and his face changed. It was like he was happy and sad at the same time. Sam tried to figure out what Kurt was looking at. As soon as he saw Blaine coming in through the doorway, his stomach dropped.

He saw the two of them mouthing apologies for their argument from the night before.

_"I'm sorry"_

_ "No I'm sorry,"_

And then they were kissing; full on kissing in the middle of the party with their hands all over each other. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that Blaine got to kiss Kurt whenever he wanted to.

"I thought he was with his grandparents," Sam said, not meaning to say it out loud.

"Hmmm…" Quinn said again.

Suddenly, Kurt and Blaine were coming toward him; he tightened his hold around Quinn, using her as a sort of drunken security blanket.

"Hey, Sam, Happy birthday," Blaine said enthusiastically. Kurt was crouching down in front of the coffee table to pour his boyfriend a drink. Sam could barely form a response.

"Saw your friend today…" He finally said to Blaine. "Sebastian…you still talk to him…?"

Kurt and Blaine exchanged nervous glances. Sam was oddly pleased with himself. He knew that there was some sort of unspoken agreement amongst his friends not to speak of Sebastian Smythe. For some reason, though, drunken Sam just couldn't bring himself to honor it.

Kurt reached out and gave Blaine's hand a squeeze, flashing him a reassuring smile. Sam was disappointed to see that they were very determined to be happy tonight. Not wanting to deal with torture anymore, Sam breathed deeply, closing his eyes, and leaning his head back. He chose, instead, to just shut them out.

* * *

><p>"No." Was the first thing Sam said when he woke up in the morning; before he even sat up or opened his eyes. Part of him thought he could will the hang-over away. Maybe if he told it off before it hit him, it wouldn't have the guts to show its face.<p>

"You okay?"

Sam sat up with a start, surprised by the voice, and the pain hit him instantly.

"What's going on?" He asked, squinting, trying to make out his surrounding in the bright light. It took him a minute to realize he was in Kurt's room, on the floor, with his legs tangled in lavender, light-knit throw blanket.

"Now tell me," Kurt said, sitting at his vanity-table, rubbing circles of moisturizer on his cheeks. "Was that really as comfortable as you thought it would be?"

Sam looked around, confused. He barely remembered the night before. He remembered getting off the couch after Blaine and Kurt had disappeared. He remembered pouring himself a seventh shot…and an eighth…and a ninth…

"You were very insistent," Kurt informed him. "I put you in your own bed downstairs twice before I gave up. You kept saying you'd be more comfortable in here with me."

"Oh god…" Sam was mortified. He rand his palm down his stubbly cheek. "I'm sorry…"

"Its fine," Kurt grinned. "I was flattered. Confused…but flattered…"

"Why confused…?" Sam asked nervously. He hoped to god he hadn't said anything else.

"You kept saying I had to get used to taking care of you," Kurt shrugged. "But whatever…It's not the first time you've talked nonsense when you were drunk."

"Yeah, definitely not," Sam agreed quickly.

Kurt finished rubbing in his lotion and stood up, wiping his hands on the towel that lay in a heap on the corner of the table.

"Guess what we missed last night?" Kurt asked, walking past him and patting him on the head.

"I don't know about you, but I feel like I missed everything…"

Kurt nodded sympathetically. "Actually, I'm talking about something more specific."

Sam had no idea. "Just tell me."

"I'm going to check online," Kurt said, walking over to his desk, where his laptop sat open. He opened his drawer and pulled out their ticket envelope. "The drawing was at nine last night. We need to know if we're millionaires."

Sam laughed weakly, and suddenly noticed how thirsty he was. He got up off the floor and tried to follow Kurt, but ended up face-down on the bed instead.

He couldn't really think about anything; not even about how good Kurt's sheets smelled. His head hurt way too badly. He zoned out, trying to ignore the annoying clicking of Kurt's fingers against the keys of his keyboard.

Eventually the clicking stopped. "Oh my god…"

Sam wanted to ask what the matter was, but he couldn't lift his face up to speak.

"Sam, get up!"

"What?" He asked, getting a face full of mattress just for opening his mouth.

"Get up now!"

He felt like crying as he lifted himself. "What?" He asked.

Kurt turned to him, his eyes wide, and his face completely white. Suddenly, Sam knew that something was up. His heart began to race.

"What…?" He asked again. Finally, he was fully present in the moment.

"Sam…" Kurt said, looking like he was about to cry. "I think we just won the lottery!"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - Thank You so much for the feedback, guys! I'm not sure if the other updates will come as fast as this one, but I'll try my best not to keep you all waiting too long. Anyway, enjoy chapter 2! **

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><p><em>"This is happening," <em>Sam told himself, as he sat slumped against the wall next to the toilet in Finn and Kurt's bathroom. _"This is very real._"

"Sam, you okay man?" Finn tapped lightly on the door.

It was quite the question. Was he okay? It depended on whether he was dreaming or not. He was done being sick, but he was still shaking. The adrenaline rush had been too much for him to handle.

"Sam…?" Kurt's voice called through the door. "Come out when you're feeling better, okay?"

Sam weakly got to his feet. "I'll be right out."

He took a few cautious steps over to the sink and grabbed a bottle of mouth wash off the granite counter top. As he rinsed the taste of vomit out of his mouth, he watched his reflection and wanted to laugh at how shitty he looked. He always thought he'd look better on the day all his problems disappeared.

He finished up, washed his hands, and went to open the door. Kurt and Finn were standing right out in the hallway. Sam didn't even know how to greet them. It's as if he had forgotten all social functions.

Kurt's eyes sparkled, doubtlessly about to flood with tears of joy.

Sam blinks, swallowing the lump in his throat, having to reassure himself that he wasn't going to throw up again. "Hi…" He said stupidly.

Kurt choked on a laugh and lunged forward, throwing his hands around Sam's shoulders. Sam couldn't help it; he started laughing too, and wrapped his arms tightly around Kurt's waist. Soon the two boys were just laughing like idiots, rocking in their embrace.

"Um…what's going on?" Finn asked. "Are you guys okay? You're kind of freaking me out."

Kurt and Sam stopped suddenly and simultaneously turned their heads to look at Finn.

"You tell him…" Sam said quietly, backing away from Kurt and giving him a light nudge. "He's your brother…"

Kurt took a deep breath, but lost himself in a fit of giggles before he could speak. "I'm sorry…" Kurt gasped for breath, throwing his hand over his mouth. "I can't…it's just…how do you even tell people something like this?"

Finn's nostrils flared as he looked back and forth between his brother and Sam, patiently awaiting an explanation.

"Well…" Sam took a deep breath, taking responsibility. "You know how it was my birthday on Thursday…"

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><p>"The Lottery: Many adults play for years and never win a dime. But the fates have dealt a different hand to two Lima high school students this weekend. These best friends tell us that they played together the first day it was legal, and get this – they won!"<p>

Sam and Kurt stood awkwardly next to the chipper female reporter. Well, Sam stood awkwardly. Kurt was milking the moment for all it was worth. The cameras were filming them on the sidewalk outside of the regional office of the Ohio State Lottery, where they'd come to file their claim that morning. Everyone in the office was fascinated by Sam and Kurt, mostly just by how _young_ they were. They'd begged the boys to let them call the press; said it would be great publicity.

"So tell us," The reporter asked. "Whose idea was it?"

"It was mine!" Kurt announced without hesitation, raising his hand proudly. "I wanted to do something for Samuel for his birthday, but I had a feeling I'd regret it if I forked over the tickets entirely."

"A feeling, huh…?" The reporter asked, flashing a hokey grin at the camera. Sam wondered just how jealous she was of them. "So did you know you were going to win?"

Sam looked to Kurt. He wasn't good with cameras.

"You know, you can fantasize about these things as much as you want. I mean, I thought it would be great if we won, but I wasn't going to be heartbroken if we didn't. I mean, it's sort of naïve to think you'll win the lottery when you're eighteen," Suddenly, Kurt was holding onto Sam's bicep with both hands. Sam could tell Kurt wanted him to include himself. "Right, Sam?"

"Um…yeah…" Sam said. Kurt had put it perfectly.

"And what are you boys going to do with the money?"

"Well, I for one am going to kick student loans to the curb and give myself a free ride through school," Kurt told her. "I'm starting at the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts in the fall."

"…And you, Sam?" The reporter asked.

He felt his cheeks heating up. He wished he had an answer. "Um…well…I haven't really thought about it. I never thought college was an option but…um…maybe I'll end up in New York now that I can afford it," He smiled nervously. "I mean, Kurt's going to need some company."

Kurt, still touching Sam's arm, looked over at him with a strange smile on his face. Sam suddenly worried he'd caught his friend off guard.

"That's really incredible…" The woman said, turning back to the camera. "…A really great story. A game of chance has given these boys the future together they never thought they'd have."

Kurt quickly let go of Sam's arm, his mouth hanging open slightly.

"From Lima, Ohio this is Mary Hanson. Back to you, Steve…"

After her sign off, the camera was lowered, and the reporter gave the boys a final smile. "Thanks guys, you were great…this will air on the nine-o'clock cast tonight."

Kurt and Sam thanked her in return and waited for her and her crew to retreat to their van.

"Well, she certainly made assumptions, didn't she?" Kurt said rigidly.

"What do you mean?" Sam played dumb. He was pretty good at it.

Kurt bit his lip. "Nothing. Never mind," He looked thoughtfully down at his feet. "…Would you really go to New York?" He said quietly when he looked up again.

"Like I said," Sam replied nervously. "I haven't really thought about it."

Kurt nodded slowly. "Well, for the record, I'd love to have you along for the ride."

Sam felt a burst of happiness in his chest. He grinned hugely. "Really…?"

"Definitely," Kurt said. "If I'm alone with Finn and Rachel all the time I'll be, like, the constant third wheel."

"You'd make new friends," Sam shrugged, his cheeks were already getting sore but that didn't help him stop smiling. "And between rehearsals and…Skype dates with Blaine, you wouldn't find the time to miss me."

Kurt smiled back sweetly. "I'll always have time to miss you, trouty mouth."

Sam shook his head, feigning annoyance at the use of his nickname, "Oh, so we're going there now!"

Kurt shrugged cockily. "I think we are!"

Sam jumped at Kurt, getting him in a head lock with one swift motion. "I'm going to mess up your hair," He threatened.

"Please don't!" Kurt begged.

"No, I think I'm going to do it…" He held his fist several inches away from Kurt's head.

"No!" Kurt cried again. Sam took mercy on the poor boy and let go. Kurt stepped away from him, blushing, and dusted off. "You really are four years old, aren't you?"

"No, I'm eighteen," Sam replied knowingly. "Remember. You got me a birthday present."

"No. I don't remember." Kurt rolled his eyes playfully. "Refresh my memory."

* * *

><p>Sam marched into the country club at the start of his shift that afternoon with his head held high. He loved how he felt. For the first time, he was superior to everyone around him.<p>

"So, we meet again…" Sebastian popped out of nowhere and began walking alongside him. "I was told you could caddy for me today. I've already reserved you."

"Awesome," Sam said, pretending to be enthusiastic.

"Well…" Sebastian could barely contain his own enthusiasm. "Looks like somebody's had a much-needed attitude adjustment,"

"Looks like it," Sam agreed. "I'm very much looking forward to carrying your golf bag for you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to clock in."

Sam made his way into the employee quarters. Instead of going straight to the time clock, like he usually did, he made a detour in the manager's office.

"Hello, Samuel," His boss, Katherine greeted him cheerfully. "Did they tell you? You'll be helping out the Smythe boy again today."

Sam nodded dismissively. It really was something he could put up with for an afternoon. "So, I just wanted to tell you…" He started, getting into the reason he'd stopped to talk to her. "I'm giving my two week notice."

He'd thought about quitting the job immediately: making some glorious scene by, like, flipping tables in the dining room or tearing his shirt off and flailing out the front entrance shouting obscenities on the way to his car. However, in the end, he felt compelled to be a mature adult.

"Oh no…" Katherine looked genuinely disappointed. "Do you want a raise? Is someone else offering to pay you more, because we can pay you more?"

"Really…?" Sam was taken aback, but then reminded himself how little that mattered at this point. "I mean…no…it's not about that. I mean…it's kind of about that…but…no."

"Well, I'll be sad to see you go," Katherine sighed sadly. "You're the most reliable teenager we've had here in a long time."

"That's nice to hear," Sam said honestly. "Well…I'll talk to you later. I have to go, you know, do my job."

Katherine folded her hands under her chin, nodding adoringly at the young man. "Of course,"

Sam felt a wave of relief pass over his body as he finished clocking in and went back out into the members' area. Months of hard work, and he was nearly done. And it took him such little effort to get to that point.

* * *

><p>"Gimme the five iron…" Sebastian demanded.<p>

Sam obediently traded clubs with the other boy, ignoring the suggestive wink Sebastian gave him as they did. Sebastian teed up and hit the ball, sending it flying through the air. Sebastian lowered his club, his eyes following the ball as it landed in a sand trap. His face twisted in disgust and turned back to Sam. "I don't even feel like playing anymore."

"You've hit two holes." Sam reminded him tonelessly.

"Yeah, well, golfing is really just an excuse to hang out with you, if I didn't make that clear enough yesterday." Sebastian said, narrowing his eyes.

Sam chuckled. "Have you ever thought that maybe it's just a little pathetic that you have to pay me to hang out with you?"

Sebastian shrugged. "I like to think of it as a worthy investment in our future together."

"Right…" Sam flicked his head to shake his hair out of his faces.

"Look, the whole hobo-chic thing is really attractive, and honestly I wouldn't want you any other way," Sebastian told him bluntly. "But don't act like being poor makes you a better person. People respond to materialism. It's a fact of life, and I'm not going to ignore it. If you had money you'd understand that sometimes you have to take advantage."

Sam felt the urge to sucker punch Sebastian and tell him all about the fortune he'd just come into, but the better part of him realized how much fun it would be to watch Sebastian come to the realization on his own.

Sam was still in shock; still having trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that he had millions of dollars to his name. He may not have known entirely what he was going to do with the money, but one thin was certain: he'd never be like Sebastian.

He reached out and took the iron back.

"If you're done playing, I should go find another member," Sam told him simply, slipping the club back into the bag. "I mean, I'm on the clock. I'm not being paid to stand around and talk."

"Actually…" Sebastian licked his lips. "I think I've got a few more swings in me."

Sam was careful not to react. "Fantastic."

* * *

><p>"Honey, I'm home!" Sam called out in his best Latino accent as he entered the house that night. No one answered him right away, so he decided to be himself instead, thinking maybe that would be less confusing for Finn. "Carole…? Burt…?"<p>

"Hey, sweetheart!" He heard Carole call from the kitchen. He kicked his shoes off and walked down the hall to greet her. "How was work?" She asked as he came into the kitchen. She was sitting at the table, clipping coupons, which Sam thought was funny. Her step son had just won the lottery and she was still trying to save money on breakfast cereal.

"It was good." He told her. "Where is everybody?"

"Oh, Burt's napping, and the boys are…" The sound of the door to the garage bursting open interrupted her. "Oh. They're home!"

"Oh my god…!" Kurt's voice cried out in agony. Sam could hear the crinkle of shopping bags coming at them through the living room. "We drove had to drive an hour! There is absolutely no good shopping in Lima! I don't know how I never realized this before!"

"You could never afford to look for them before," A second voice explained to him. It wasn't Finn's. Sam's stomach convulsed.

"Hey guys…" Blaine walked into the kitchen, his boyfriend in tow. Sam stepped out of their way and watched them deposit their twenty-something bags on the table.

"I can't believe you worked a full shift," Kurt practically scolded Sam. "I would've died if I couldn't go shopping today."

"What did you guys buy?" Carole stood up, trying to peek inside the bags, her eyes lighting up like a kid looking at Christmas lights.

"I've treated myself to classed-up versions of my usual staples," Kurt told them. "I spent five hundred dollars on two pairs of skinny jeans…and they were on sale."

Blaine looked to Sam, "They look fantastic on him."

_"Don't strangle him," _Sam told himself. _"I know you want to, but don't strangle Blaine."_ He forced a smile. "I bet."

"And Blaine…typical, typical Blaine insisted that all he wanted was more cardigans." Kurt began to rummage through one of the bags, pulling out a couple of sweaters. "Well, we took him from cotton-blend to cashmere, and if I have any say at all, he's never going back."

Sam couldn't help but be a little surprised that Blaine had gone shopping too. Of course Kurt had bought him things. He was Kurt's boyfriend. If Sam had someone to pamper, he would pamper them. Unfortunately, the person he wanted to pamper was just as rich as he was.

"What do you guys want to do for dinner?" Sam interrupted loudly, wanting to take everyone's minds off of Kurt and Blaine's little shopping excursion.

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other. To Sam's horror, they answered in unison. "French food,"

He clenched his teeth, and decided it would probably be better for him to just leave the room.

* * *

><p>Sam didn't even have to think about where the first big chunk of his money was going to go. As soon as the thought occurred to him, he knew what he wanted to do.<p>

"I'm setting up a college fund for Stacey and Stevie," He told his parents, sitting in front of Kurt's laptop late that night and talking to them via web cam for the second time in forty-eight hours. "And I want to pay off your mortgage. It's the least I can do. I would hate to see you lose another house when I could've done something to stop it. "

"Sam, we can't let you do that!" Mrs. Evans protested. "We're doing fine. This is your money: yours and Kurt's."

"Dad, don't try to talk me out of it!" Sam cried. "So, I'm out a million dollars! There's a lot more where that came from."

"Something every father dreams of hearing their son say," Mr. Evans replied lightly.

Sam chuckled. "I want to take care of you guys." He swallowed, hesitating to tell them anything else. "But, you should know…my own plans are going to be changing."

"Well, I would hope it would!" Mrs. Evans said, emphatically slapping the top desk she was sitting behind.

"I mean… as long as I know you guys are taken care off…I'm not sure I'll be moving back to Kentucky after all." It killed him to say it, but he'd always known he couldn't have it all. He'd have to sacrifice something.

His parents nodded, taking it in. "Well, I can't say I didn't see it coming," Mrs. Evans told him strongly.

"I love you, Mom," Sam reassured her. "I'll come visit whenever you want me to."

"Every day…?" She teased.

"Okay, well, maybe we'll have to compromise…" Sam grinned.

"It's fine," She told him. "Part of being a mother is accepting the fact that your kids are going to grow up and leave you. I just…I'd hoped I would have more time with you."

"I know," He told her sadly. "I'll never leave you completely, though. You know that."

Mrs. Evans nodded acceptingly.

"Well, it's getting late. You take care, son," Mr. Evans told him, ready to wrap up their conversation.

"Kiss the kids for me," Sam told them.

"Will do…"

"Bye."

"Bye."

It was the same feeling Sam had had the last time they disconnected. This time it was worse, even. He wasn't sure why.

"You okay…?"

Sam jumped, whipping his head around to see Kurt sitting at the bottom of the basement stairs.

"How long have you been there?" He asked, terrified.

"Long enough to hear you offering your parents early retirement," Kurt grinned. "You're really something, you know that, Sam?"

Sam blushed. "I guess…" He offered. "I mean, I don't really know what else to spend it on."

"Besides a life in New York, you mean?" Kurt stood up and took a few slow steps toward Sam. "You know, I was thinking of booking a flight right after graduation. It might be cool to spend the summer out there."

"I was actually thinking the same thing," Sam replied honestly, astounded by how similar their minds worked.

"We could share a ridiculous penthouse on the upper east side…" Kurt went on, enchanted. "I don't know about you, but I'm not willing to live alone just yet."

"Me neither."

"So it's settled…" Kurt laughed musically. "We're going to New York…" And with an adorable touch of his chin to his shoulder, he added, "Together…"

"Together…" Sam repeated, shifting in his seat, a cloud of butterflies swirling through his stomach.

_"This is very real,"_ He told himself. But in all actuality, it had to be too good to be true.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N - Oh lord. Writing graduation made me really sad. Because I thought about how it's actually going to happen on the show and DEAR LORD I JUST CAN'T. Anyway...I'm so happy you guys are enjoying this. Thank you so much for your reviews! Enjoy this next installment in which they finally make it to NYC. I plotted out the whole story and it'll be about 20 or 21 chapters in all, so this is just the beginning!**

* * *

><p>"Smile big, Trouty Mouth!" Santana snuck up on Sam, catching him off guard as she rested her chin on his shoulder and held her camera out in front of them. He made a dopey face, widening his eyes instinctively so he wouldn't blink as the flash went off.<p>

"Perfect," She said, backing away and examining the screen of her camera, grinning wickedly. "Now all my friends at college will believe me when I tell them I knew the teenage multi-millionaire."

The graduation ceremony had ended five minutes ago, and Santana had already stripped off her gown and disposed of it somewhere. She was wearing a tiny black cocktail dress, which looked great on her, but somehow seemed inappropriate for the event at hand.

"Multi-Millio_naires_…" Kurt corrected her as he approached, his own robe draped over his arm. He was wearing a silver designer suit that he'd just bought. Sam made a point not to stare at him. The suit fit him perfectly, and somehow, Sam cared a little less that he was over dressed. "That's plural."

"Aw, come here," Santana reached out and pulled him into her. They both posed as she took another snap shot.

"Have you seen Rachel…or Finn?" Kurt asked, glancing around. "He was right next to me in line; I don't know where I lost him."

"Actually, yeah…" Santana said distractedly, flipping through the rest of her pictures from the day. "We're supposed to meet in the choir room. I think Mr. Shuester wanted to make us cry one last time before he got rid of us."

Kurt sighed and his eyes met Sam's. "I guess that's understandable, don't you think?"

Sam gave a nervous chuckle and nodded.

The building was empty, and Sam felt a weird sense of nostalgia knowing he would no longer be entering it every day. He'd attended three different high schools, but McKinley was the only one that meant anything to him. He was incredibly grateful that he'd had the opportunity to spend Senior Year with his friends, and felt a lump rising in his throat knowing it was almost over.

"You okay?" Kurt asked softly, reaching out and giving his best friend's elbow a squeeze.

Sam was embarrassed. He blinked back the tears that were collecting in his eyes. "What…? Yeah. Shut up."

Kurt grinned, but Sam could tell that his emotion was contagious, because Kurt was now blinking back tears himself.

"Hello Mr. Graduate," Blaine was waiting in the choir room when they walked in, and came forward to hug Kurt immediately. "Congratulations…"

Sam maneuvered around the couple road block and went to shake hands with Rory. He took a look around the room. Tina was already crying into Mike's shoulder. Brittany and Santana had a death-grip on each other's hands as they stood, practically paralyzed in the middle of the room. Finn sat in the first row of chairs, trying to keep collected while Rachel whimpered in his lap. Quinn rested her head on Mercedes' shoulder in the row behind them, her mascara running. Puck was the biggest mess of all. Artie was next to him on the risers as he slumped over, sobbing uncontrollably into his palms.

"This is it, guys…" Mr. Shuester said softly, strolling into the choir room from his office. "I don't know how we've made it three years without having to say goodbye tp anyone like this, and I've got to say, now that it's happening…it really sucks."

Sam looked around at everyone embracing, and felt kind of awkward, standing and crying by him self. He crossed his arms and fixed his eyes at a spot on the floor.

"You guys are the original glee club members, and know that each and every one of you will always have a special place in my heart. I hope the club will be around long enough for me to watch dozens of others grow just like I've watched you. Some of you have made amazing plans for yourselves, and I'm really looking forward to all of you coming back here and showing me what awesome adults you've become. I love you guys…and I hope the last three years have been as amazing for you as they have for me."

No one could even respond. Everyone was sobbing at that point as they moved in to give Mr. Shuester a group hug.

As they were pulling away, Sam realized that Kurt was looming near him. Unexpectedly, Kurt threw his arms around him, his wet face grazing Sam's neck.

"What are you doing?" Sam laughed through his tears. "This isn't goodbye for us."

"And thank god it isn't," Kurt mumbled. Sam nodded. He tightened his hold on Kurt and moved his hand up, lightly stroking the back of his neck and closing his eyes. When he opened them, he noticed Blaine several feet behind Kurt, watching their embrace expressionlessly. Sam was suddenly intimidated and pulled away. "Life after High School: we can do this, right?"

Blaine had distracted himself by going over to Finn and Rachel. Sam felt relieved, and looked back to Kurt, grinning encouragingly. "Of course we can."

* * *

><p>Sam shoved his hands into the pockets of his dress pants as he walked into the club one last time. He'd gotten several voicemails from Katherine about his last paycheck. When he'd called her back, telling her to keep it, she told him the least he could do was stop in one last time and see her before he went and made a life for himself.<p>

"Thank you," She told him in her office as she handed him the thin envelope. "I couldn't go the rest of my life without seeing that precious smile one last time."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You've been great, Katherine." He told her.

"Mention the club in your autobiography, will you?"

"Well, I'm not much of a writer," He admitted. English had always been his worse subject because of his dyslexia.

She pointed loosely at him. "Put that check towards hiring some sort of scribe. I don't know…" She winked.

"Okay," Sam playfully waved the envelope in the air as he started out the door.

"Your boyfriend's precious by the way."

Sam spun around, color rushing to his cheeks. "Excuse me?"

"I saw your interview on Fox," Katherine grinned. "You have excellent taste. I wish you both the best."

"Kurt's…just a friend…" Sam tried. It felt like someone had turned the furnace up.

Katherine wasn't buying it. "Sure he is."

"Well…I gotta go…" Sam hoped he wasn't blushing. He hoped he was imagining it. God, did he have to be so obvious? "…Bye."

Katherine giggled, a little too amused for his liking. "Take care…"

Sam rushed out of the office. He still felt embarrassed taking the club's money when everyone knew he didn't really need it. He tried to inconspicuously tuck the envelope under his arm as he made a bee line for the exit.

"I like your pants!"

Damn it. Sam considered ignoring Sebastian, but some strange force compelled him to stop in his tracks, slowly turn, and glare at the lanky boy. Sebastian caught up with Sam, wearing his usual khakis and polo.

"Are you becoming a member now?" Sebastian asked. "You know…now that you can afford it?"

"Of course not," Sam said, he pushed open the doors and made his way into the sunny parking lot. Sebastian didn't struggle to keep up.

"I think you should consider it. Lima can get pretty dull during summer. It will give you something to do. Lucky for me, I have a week left of finals, and then I'm off to New York."

Sam cringed involuntarily. "Excuse me…?"

"New York…we summer in South Hampton. My dad has a studio in the city that he lets me stay in when I feel like socializing with a more exciting crowd."

"Fantastic," Sam mumbled. He knew it wouldn't be a problem. Manhattan was a big island. He doubted he'd ever bump into Sebastian.

"Hey, so, I saw you on the news the other day…" Sebastian chewed on his words. Sam had almost made it to his car. Why was Sebastian still talking? "Everyone's talking about the lovely young homosexual couple who won the lottery. I wasn't aware that you and Hummel were an item."

"We're not." Sam shrugged. "He's just a friend."

Sebastian gave an attractive snort. "Well duh. Kurt and Blaine are going to be together forever, so you can never have him." He stuck out his lip a little bit, feigning sympathy. "But between you and me, I think you want them broken up as much as I did last winter."

Sam unlocked his door, but something kept him from getting in. He wasn't sure how to respond to Sebastian's accusations. It really pissed him off that Sebastian was in his head like that.

"Look, I know I haven't had the best manners, caddy," Sebastian sighed. "But for what it's worth, I'd choose you over either of them any day of the week."

Sam looked up at Sebastian, his face twisted in horror. Sebastian actually sounded kind of genuine for once. He swallowed uncomfortably as Sebastian resumed his smug smile and turned to walk away.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Sam reached the top of the basement stairs and came out into the hallway with his suitcase and his back pack. Surprisingly, the minimal luggage contained everything he owned: everything he'd brought from Kentucky, anyway. Kurt, however, had a different story. He had about four suitcases – only a fraction of his possessions – parked in the foyer, and was instructing his parents for the eighteenth time what to do with the rest.<p>

"It's all in boxes in my room. I'll call with an address when we find a permanent place and…I guess I'll wire you the money for shipping."

"Hey." Burt said tersely, moving in for a hug. "Can we not talk so much about UPS right now? These are your last moments with your old man. It wouldn't kill you to cherish them."

"God, Dad. I'll come home to visit. It's not like air fare is an issue now."

"And we'll fly you guys out to visit us," Sam promised, taking Carole in a hug. "I can't tell you how much I've appreciate everything you two have done for me."

Carole was on the verge of tears, but Sam had prepared himself to witness it. "I just can't believe you guys are leaving so early. Should I wake Finn up to say goodbye?"

Kurt shook his head dismissively. "Let him sleep. He'll see us in a few weeks anyway."

Sam shook Burt's hand and went over to look out the front window. "Is the car here yet?"

"Um…" Kurt said from Carole's arms. He pulled out of his embrace and followed Sam. "I didn't call a car."

Sam was confused. "Oh…?"

"Blaine's going to drive us to the airport." Kurt told him excitedly.

Sam looked out the window again just in time to see an unfamiliar baby-blue Mercedes Benz pulling up to the curb. "You didn't…" He shot a look back to Kurt.

"Finn, Rachel and Blaine were talking about taking a road trip when they come out, and I thought it would be a shame if they had to do it in Finn's truck."

Sam nodded stupidly, still gawking at the shiny vehicle as he watched Blaine come up the lawn. Kurt pulled the door open and met his boyfriend on the porch, taking him in a huge hug.

"Can I help you with your bags, sir," Blaine asked him, as if he was Kurt's servant. Sam was instantly even more disgusted than he had been.

"I don't know…they're pretty heavy…"

Sam grabbed his own bags and gave Burt and Carole one last grateful grin before stepping around Kurt and Blaine again and going out the front door ahead of them.

* * *

><p>The only other time Sam had ever been on a plane was for show choir nationals, and that was a completely different experience than the hot-towel, ginger ale-in-champagne-flukes experience first class offered. He could tell Kurt was making the same observation. He was hilariously giddy the entire flight. He couldn't stop talking.<p>

"I don't even know what to do this summer," He was going on. "Maybe I'll take up yoga…or Pilates…which one would suite me better?"

Sam chuckled. "Dude, I don't know."

"You're a jock! You should know these things!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I lift weights…I jog. We don't assign fancy names to our exercises…"

"Real men are too cool for that," Kurt mimicked him, lowering his voice in a horrible impression.

Sam laughed, smacking Kurt lightly on the wrist. "Shut up. You're so loud." He was noticing the people in the next aisle over looking at them strangely. Sam gave them an apologetic smile.

"So what are you planning on doing with your time?"

"I don't know. This happened so fast, I never had time to think about it."

"You have…" Kurt grabbed Sam's arm and gazed at the face of the watch his parents gave him, which still hung loosely on his wrist. "…an hour and nineteen minutes left until we land. That's plenty of time."

Sam rolled his eyes, tugging his arm away. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

"No problem," Kurt flicked on the switch of the Sharper Image massaging travel pillow that he'd bought two days earlier and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes to give Sam time to "think".

* * *

><p>A stretch limo picked him and Kurt up from JFK. They blasted LMFAO songs in the back, dancing like idiots in their seats as it drove them to their hotel.<p>

"Look at this," Sam said, dead pan, flipping a light switch he found so that the over head neon-lights changed from color to color. "Trippy right…?"

"Shut up!" Kurt laughed. "You've always wanted to do that, haven't you?"

"I've never been in a limo before!" Sam shrugged. "There's a lot of things I haven't done."

Kurt bit his lip thoughtfully. "I will pay you fifty dollars to take your shirt off and stand out of the skylight!" He dared.

Sam laughed out loud. "Why do I have to take my shirt off?"

"I don't know. I want my money's worth," Kurt cackled, lying down on his seat.

"Not gunna happen," Sam said. "I bet it only works in movies. I bet if I tried it, I'd get sucked out and splattered all over Broadway."

"We're not even on Broadway, genius," Kurt teased. "If you don't do it, I will."

"Don't," Sam warned.

Kurt didn't listen. Determinedly, he reached up and opened the sky light. Sam was hit by a cool draft as Kurt started standing on the seat. He poked his head through and screamed in delight. Impulsively, Sam lunged forward and grabbed Kurt around the waist, pulling him back in and sloppily wrestling him onto the floor of the limo.

"You're cruel!" Kurt was laughing, trying to squirm free. "You don't enjoy fun!"

"I think this is pretty fun…" Sam said casually.

"You're evil," Kurt had managed to do a one eighty in Sam's grip. He was still pinned to the ground but now he was looking at Sam's face. It took them both a minute to process how close their bodies were. As their breathing slowed and they locked eyes with each other, they didn't realize the car had come to a stop.

The door popped open, and the driver, a small middle-aged man, cautiously stuck his head in.

"I hate to interrupt…" He said. "But we've reached your destination."

Sam and Kurt flew apart; both of them blushing and clearing their throats, knowing how bad what they were doing had probably looked to the stranger.

Sam paid the man uncomfortably as a bellhop came out with a cart to get their luggage from the trunk of the car.

"Welcome to the plaza," He told the boys. "I'll take care of these for you."

And at that point, neither of them could concentrate on their embarrassment. All they could think about was how surreal those words sounded.

* * *

><p>"Shit…" Kurt had said it at least twelve times since they'd entered their suite.<p>

"I know," Was constantly Sam's response.

Their suite was basically a furnished apartment, with a living and dining room area, and two bedrooms with king sized beds. All the furniture looked straight out of a movie about a Victorian courtship.

"Can you believe this isn't even the most expensive room?" Kurt asked in awe. "There's a presidential suite with a baby grand piano in it."

"We should've gotten that one," Sam laughed. "We could've had a jam session."

Kurt had a sudden realization. "You didn't bring your guitar."

Sam laughed, because Kurt said it as if he was breaking bad news. "Finn's going to bring it up for me. I didn't want to check it."

"What? Sam. You could've afforded to check anything."

Sam shrugged. "It didn't seem convenient. It'll be okay."

Kurt rolled his eyes, but chose not to say anything else. "It's funny. The last time we were in New York, we had the entire glee club crammed into two bedrooms. It's a weird shift of perspective, isn't it?"

Sam nodded. "It felt like this once in a life time trip for me…" He admitted.

"And now here we are," Kurt smiled sweetly, holding his palms up and spreading his arms. He did a cute little spin and fell back onto the nearby sofa. "New York. Again…"

Sam sighed, taking a couple of paces, looking around and examining the gold detailing of the wall paper. He wondered if where he was, and under what circumstances, would ever really hit him.

* * *

><p>That night, Sam lay flat on his back, the tight covers of the hotel bed pulled up to his bare shoulders. The little red light on the smoke detector above him blinked in its slow and perfect rhythm, and Sam hoped that fixating on it would help him fall asleep, like the rhythm of counting sheep. He always had problems falling asleep in a new bed, especially one that was so…perfectly made.<p>

He squirmed around under the covers, trying to loosen them up. Frustrated, he let out a heavy sigh and tugged at the edges of them, finally getting the corners of the comforter out from under the mattress. He wrapped it around himself like a cocoon, and then rolled over, sticking his arm out and reaching over to the nightstand so he could turn on the radio. He was sure that would help him sleep. Maybe it was the quiet that was getting to him.

The radio was set to a classical music station. He decided to leave it. He'd never been the biggest fan of classical music, but then again, he never really gave it a try. Right now, it seemed like it might relax him.

He was right. Within ten minutes, he was blissfully drifting between wake and sleep, finally comfortable.

"Sam…?" A voice said. He stirred, but found himself unable to respond. He figured he was just dreaming again. It wouldn't be the first time he'd dreamed about Kurt. "Are you asleep?"

No, he realized, he wasn't. He inhaled sharply as he blinked his eyes open to find Kurt crawling onto his bed, his own set of sheets wrapped around his shoulders.

"What…you doing…?" Sam mumbled.

Kurt lay down on the other side of the bed, careful to keep his distance from Sam. Confused, Sam propped himself up on his side, looking at Kurt, confused.

"Don't judge me," Kurt said simply. "These beds are too big…"

Sam accepted that explanation. He nodded and yawned. "Okay. Goodnight, Kurt," He said, his voice cracking softly as he stared at Kurt's porcelain profile, which was illuminated by the city lights that were pouring through the window. Sam realized how hard it would be to lay next to Kurt and keep his hands to himself.

"Goodnight." Kurt said, and rolled onto his side, facing away from him.

Sam stared at his best friend for several minutes longer. _"This isn't weird, right? Best friends share beds all the time."_ But as he lay back down, he hoped it was weird. He hoped it was very, very rare.


	4. Chapter 4

**HERE WE GO! Chapter Four. Thanks again for your previous reviews! Hope you like this one! It's getting fun to write.**

* * *

><p>"Would you like more coffee, Mr. Evans?" Kurt had a skip in his step as he came across the room, the pot in his hand.<p>

Sam flashed Kurt a crooked grin. He'd honestly reached his caffeine limit, but he didn't know how to say no to the boy.

"I'd love some."

"Yes, you will need your energy," Kurt told Sam as he poured. "I've never been condo-hunting before but I heard it's pretty draining."

"I'll bet…" Sam traced the handle of his mug with his finger. Kurt hummed to himself as he went to replace the coffee pot, and then returned to the table where his room service egg-white omelet was waiting for him.

"This…is heavenly…" Kurt said through his first bite.

Sam took a bite of his own whole wheat French toast. It wasn't bad either. He couldn't enjoy it to the fullest, however, because he was too distracted by how much Kurt was enjoying his own breakfast. It was too cute.

"So, what should I wear today?" Kurt asked him, daintily setting down his fork and taking another sip of coffee.

Sam was so bad with these kinds of questions. Fashion wasn't his thing. Instead, he thought about what he liked to see Kurt in. "I liked the suit you wore at graduation,"

A grin came over Kurt's face. "Oh Samuel…" He reached over and patted Sam's arm. "You're so…" He trailed off, shaking his head and picking up his fork again.

Sam was waiting, though. "So…what…?"

Kurt chewed his food underneath his smile. "Nothing," Kurt put down his fork again and stood up. "You're cute…"

Sam nodded seriously as Kurt left the table and went into his room. "We're going to be on the Upper East Side," He called. "I want to look presentable, but not like I'm trying too hard."

"I'm wearing Jeans and a T-shirt," Sam told him, just for a reaction.

"And a blazer…?" Kurt asked him hopefully.

Sam laughed out loud. Kurt would try to add layers. "It's June. It's 85 degrees out!" Kurt was silent. Sam could hear him jumping around. "Are you okay in there?"

"Yeah…" Kurt replied slowly. "Just trying to get into my jeans,"

"You said you didn't want to try too hard!" Sam reminded him. "That sounds like you're putting in a lot of effort."

Kurt let out an exasperated cry. "You know, I haven't even started school and I'm already gaining the freshman fifteen…"

"Naw, they probably just shrunk in the dryer."

"If you think I put my insanely expensive jeans in the dryer, then I have more to teach you than I thought…" Kurt came out of the bedroom, wearing a simple blue pinstriped button-down tucked into his faded skinny jeans. It was a very simple ensemble, and the lack of embellishments made Kurt seem more mature.

"Wow…" Sam said, his eyes traveling to Kurt's small Adam's apple, which was weirdly exposed due to the fact that his top two buttons were undone.

"I know. I look fantastic," Kurt shrugged, doing a little twirl. "I'm still debating what tie to wear."

"No tie," Sam said quickly. "Just…I like it this way..."

Kurt tilted his head speculatively, but decided not to argue. "Fine; No tie…"

* * *

><p>"Here it is…" Their realtor, Beverly, a heavily made-up middle-aged woman with leathery skin and gigantic hair, lead the boys into their first condo of the day. It was how the boys expected a New York home to look. There were wood floors, rich colored walls, and lots of light.<p>

Kurt quickly breezed through the foyer and entered the kitchen. Before Sam could follow him, he flew out, his face twisted in disgust. "What's wrong?"

"You don't even want to see," Kurt spat, linking arms with Sam and dragging him into the nearby living room. "It's all chrome. Everything matches the stainless steel appliances."

"Well…matching is good…" Sam tried.

"Do you remember that episode of Spongebob where they go to the future…?"

"Remember…? Finn and I watched it last Thursday."

"It looked like that; just like that. Two more strikes and its out."

Sam chuckled as Kurt removed himself from his arm and gave the living room a 360 examination. There was built in, cherry-wood shelving on two of the walls, and the far end had a gorgeous, marble fire-place.

"This room is okay. It's not ideal, but it's not a deal breaker."

"We don't read enough for all these book shelves," Sam gave his opinion. "They'd just be empty all the time, and every time we had friends over they'd see our empty shelves and know how little we read."

Kurt narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "We can tell them we're environmentalists and that we've gone digital."

Sam nodded. That sounded like a good plan to him. "Not a strike…?"

Kurt shook his head. "No. This room is safe."

Beverly was chuckling warmly as they went back into the hall. "So I guess this is a place that shows itself. You two sure make my job easy."

Sam tried to glance at Kurt, but the other boy had already disappeared. He sighed, not surprised, and turned to Beverly, a stupid smile on his face. "Sorry, he's just…kind of like this…"

"Don't apologize," The woman chuckled. "We both know he's adorable."

Sam shrugged. He couldn't comment.

"Sam! Get in here!" Kurt yelled from the closest bedroom. Sam followed the voice obediently.

Kurt had pulled open the doors of the closet and was staring into it, a crazed look in his eyes. It was bigger than Sam's bedroom in Kentucky, and seemed to have a rack, drawer or cabinet for any garment Kurt could possibly want to store.

"I want this closet." Kurt said with a light breath. "I've been dreaming about this closet since I was two. I need this closet."

Sam and Beverly exchanged amused grins.

"So, do you boys want to make an offer?" She asked them.

Kurt spun around giddily. "Well, maybe. I can definitely see myself in this space."

"Fantastic," Beverly said clapping her hands together. "Now, the asking price is eight-hundred thousand."

Suddenly Kurt's face fell, which confused Sam. Money wasn't exactly an issue for them.

"Well, It was down as six-fifty on your firm's online listings," Kurt said uncomfortably.

Beverly's face fell too. She looked almost nervous. "Well, sometimes we struggle to keep those listings up to date…"

"Yes, I'm sure…" Kurt looked around the room again, trying to decide if it was worth it. Sam held his breath. "You know, I don't know much about real estate, but I do know that in this economy it's more likely for someone to _lower_ the asking price when their place hasn't sold yet."

"Mr. Hummel, I…" She tried to get a word in, but Kurt didn't let her speak.

"Now, maybe I'm horribly misinformed…" He stepped a bit closer for her, his voice getting just slightly louder. "…and maybe the owners really did raise the asking price. Then again, it's also likely that you knew you were showing the property to a couple of naïve eighteen-year olds with all the money in the world to spend, and you wanted to see if you could milk an extra _hundred and fifty thousand_ dollars from them."

"I'm sorry…" Beverly was actually starting to sweat. Sam watched Kurt with wide eyes. He couldn't believe it. The woman was actually guilty, and Kurt was calling her out like a total bad ass.

"You know, a hundred and fifty thousand dollars could house a whole family in the South. And what would you do with the money? Let me guess; you'd probably invest it." He flashed Sam a knowing smile. "You'd probably buy stock in whatever company develops the chemicals that your gay French stylist puts in your hair to give you those ringlets. Of course, you'd loose everything when the company goes under, because you were one of those unfortunate souls who didn't realize that perms stopped being socially acceptable about twenty years ago."

Sam's jaw was practically on the floor. Beverly was speechless. She just stood there, stammering like an idiot.

"You can find someone else who's willing to fall for your amateur tricks," Kurt told her simply. "And Sam and I can find a realtor who's actually willing to be a professional. I'm sorry…I've been using a lot of big words. Maybe I should put it more simply for you: you're fired."

With that, Kurt flew gracefully out of the room. Sam bowed his head as he followed him, terrified that he'd accidentally make eye contact with the woman and be expected to apologize. He knew he couldn't. He knew if he tried to talk to her at all, he'd start laughing like an idiot. What had just gone down was entirely too epic.

Sam and Kurt left the condo, went down the stairs, and out onto the side walk in silence. Once they were outside, and moving rapidly away from the building, Sam finally exploded.

"Holy shit…" He was cracking up. "That was perfection, dude. I can't believe you called her out like that."

Kurt clearly couldn't believe it either. His eyes widened, as he slowly looked at Sam. Two seconds later, he was laughing too. "What can I say?" He gasped, grabbing Sam's arm. "No one pushes the Hummels around."

"So, what now…?" Sam laughed. "I mean, I guess we're not going to bid on a condo today."

"I'll make an appointment with another firm for another day," Kurt sighed. "There's no harm spending a few extra nights at the Plaza."

"Nope…" Sam agreed, wondering if Kurt realized how comfortably they were holding on to each other's arms.

"Kurt Hummel!" An unfamiliar male voice suddenly rang out of nowhere.

Confused, Kurt and Sam both looked around, trying to find the source. Suddenly, a tall guy with dreadlocks and a camera came rushing at them. Kurt only tightened his hold on Sam as the man started snapping pictures.

"Sam Evans!" The man continued. "That is who you two are, isn't it…?"

Kurt shielded his eyes from the flash. "That depends. Who's asking?"

"Look at this: Teenage millionaires…" The guy sighed. "Your story's gone viral. People are eating this shit up. Do you guys want to give me a line on what it's like to come through on your promise of moving to the big apple together?"

Sam kind of wanted to tell the guy to fuck off. He hated cameras, but Kurt was too nice. "Oh, you know, it's a dream come true," Kurt laughed pleasantly.

"Totally…" Sam agreed.

"Great…" The guys said, snapping another picture. "That's great…"

Finally, Kurt had had enough. "Thank you…" He pushed past the photographer and pulled Sam with him down the sidewalk.

"Oh my god…" Kurt said once the man was out of ear shot. "We're, like, celebrities."

"I don't get it," Sam agreed. "We only had, like, one interview…"

"Yeah, and I bet it's been auto-tuned by now! Do you think it's been auto-tuned?"

Sam laughed. "I can't say."

Kurt sighed. "I want to go to the village," He said randomly. "I just...can't believe we're really here. I want to experience the city for real this time. I want to find a coffee house that looks like the one in _Friends_ and I want to have lunch with you."

The last two words of the sentence were what made Sam's heart skip a beat. It made him feel like he was a crucial part of what Kurt wanted, even if deep down he knew it meant hardly anything at all.

"We can do that…" Sam agreed. "Do you know what subway we need to take?"

Kurt threw his head back, letting out a mean cackle. "Ha! The Subway…!"

"What…?"

"Peasants take the Subway, Samuel." He said. "You and I are princes,"

With that, Kurt stepped off the curb, waving his arm wildly in the air as a Taxi approached. Sam crossed his arms, grinning at Kurt as the car slowed for him. Kurt ran to it and opened the door, turning to Sam expectantly. "Well, come on!" Kurt shouted. "Central Perk awaits us!"

Sam sighed and followed him. Kurt couldn't have said it any better; the whole thing really was a dream come true.

* * *

><p>They returned to their hotel around nine that night. They'd done it all. They'd had lunch in the village. They'd visited the central park zoo, where they'd each bought wax molds of animals- Sam an otter and Kurt a penguin. Kurt had called to make a reservation at serendipity a week in advance, and so they roamed the streets going into every store that looked interesting until their table was available. Finally, they had dessert for dinner and decided to call it a night.<p>

Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd had a day so perfect. He didn't even care about the insanely long cab rides they were taking every few hours because Kurt hadn't realized how big New York actually was. He couldn't be annoyed when the long rides were spent with the windows rolled down as he shamelessly mocked pedestrians with the cleverest, funniest boy he had ever met.

Kurt had attempted to wrap up an extra frozen hot chocolate and bring it back to the hotel, but it had melted completely by the time they got back.

"I told you it wouldn't work…" Sam told him as Kurt pulled it out of the doggy bag, his lower lip sticking out in mourning.

"Well, maybe I'll stick it in the microwave later," Kurt said, opening the mini-fridge in the kitchenette and shoving the treat in. "Then it'll just be…hot…hot chocolate."

Sam rolled his eyes. He went over to the dining room table. It was completely clear, which was funny because he was sure that he and Kurt had left their plates from breakfast on it. Sam realized how much he loved the concept of maid service, and kind of wondered if he wanted to give it up for a condo.

Kurt went into his room and came out with his laptop. Sam assumed he was going to contact Blaine in some way, shape, or form, and took that as a cue to retreat to his room. Maybe there was something funny on TBS.

"Wait!" Kurt said. "Come here! We should Google ourselves!"

He was relieved. Kurt actually wanted to spend time with him. "Okay…"

They sat down at the table, and pulled their chairs close together so they both had a good view of the screen. Kurt clicked on the Google Chrome icon, and the window popped up immediately.

"I'm just going to try our names," He said excitedly, typing _Kurt Hummel and Sam Evans _into the search bar.

Sam was impressed with the results.

"Ohio Teens win big in the state lottery," Kurt read out loud, scrolling through some of the headlines. "Millionaire Gay couple plans on starting a new life in New York…" He cleared his throat. "Is that one about us?"

Obviously. There was a picture of them attached to it. "Um…I think it might be."

Kurt just cleared his throat again and kept scrolling. Suddenly he stopped, and read aloud. "Is teenage lottery winner Kurt Hummel's new fortune going to his head? What the hell…"

He frantically clicked on the story, scanning it quickly. Sam tried to lean in and read it too, but Kurt was already scrolling down before Sam could get through the first two sentences.

"I can't believe this!" Kurt flew out of his seat. "Are you seeing this!"

"What does it say?" Sam asked, realizing asking would be easier than actually trying to read it.

"It basically says I went all diva on my realtor today!" He cried, his voice rising in pitch. "It says that I gave her a long list of demands, and then snapped at her when the property she showed me wasn't good enough! That _cow_ must've gone to some idiot gossip blog! We should call them! They have the story all wrong."

Sam didn't know what to do. Kurt was in a panic, pacing around like a wind-up toy. "Hey, we don't know that anyone actually reads this shit."

"But those words are out there!" Kurt cried. "God, maybe I was too hard on her! Maybe her boss really did tell her to raise the price! I feel like such a horrible person!"

Sam didn't believe any of it. "No. I saw the look on her face; totally guilty. She was messing with us."

"But we don't know that for sure, Sam!" Kurt yelled, choking up a little. Sam realized how upset Kurt was, and just wanted to make it better.

"Hey…" He said gently, standing up and going over to Kurt. He took the boy in his arms. Kurt buried his face in Sam's shoulder, breathing deeply to try to calm himself down. "Why are you so torn up? It's one blog."

Kurt shook his head. "I've always wanted to be famous. Not for money…I wanted to be a famous actor." He pulled away from Sam a little so they were looking one another in the eyes, but he still allowed Sam to hold onto him. "We watched Tootsie together. You have to understand. I don't want to be the actor nobody wants to work with because I'm too mean or too stubborn. I don't want to have to disguise myself because no one wants the real me… even though I'd make a far more convincing woman than Dustin Hoffman."

Sam nodded understandingly. "Is that what you're worried about? Getting work? You're talented, Kurt. You don't have to worry."

Kurt shrugged. "I know…it's stupid. But I was really hoping to find a bunch of articles exclusively about how amazing we are."

Sam and Kurt pulled apart, and Kurt went over to close his lap top.

"I've got a headline for you," Sam said confidently. Kurt turned around, smiling sadly. "NYADA bound Hummel gives his low life best friend a fantastic day in New York City."

Kurt rolled his eyes, tucking his computer under his arm. "Thanks Sam…" He laughed, starting toward his room. "That really helps…" His words didn't hold an ounce of sincerity.

"It doesn't matter what a couple of bloggers think," Sam continued. "Anyone who's worth anything in this city will see how great you are."

Finally, Kurt took his seriously. He swallowed and turned back to Sam. "Thanks…" He said again. This time, he meant it.

Defeated, and probably going to call Blaine for real this time, Kurt disappeared into his room and closed the door.

"No problem…"


	5. Chapter 5

**So, this is a bit of a shorter chapter, but the next few will start getting plot-heavy, so I wanted to keep this one short and sweet (no pun intended). **

**WARNING: The story Kurt tells Sam is slightly M-rated, but I don't plan on getting too smutty in this story, so I won't change the rating for that. I just hope it doesn't scar anyone for life :D.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>"I like this one," Sam said, falling onto the low, flat-cushioned sofa in the IKEA showroom.<p>

"Oh, come on, it's totally tacky." Kurt said, leaning down and grabbing Sam's arm, trying to pull him to his feet. "Besides, I know how messy you get when you eat in front of the TV. A white couch is the worst idea for you."

"It's not going to be white," Sam sighed, pulling his arm away from Kurt and lying back. "You can buy any color slip cover you want to go with it."

Kurt sighed, crossing his arms and looking around peevishly. "I can't believe you talked me into this. I think it's time to go to a real furniture store."

"Ssh. IKEA can hear you. You're hurting its feelings."

Kurt stifled a laugh and reached for Sam again. "Come on. Get up."

Sam sighed, and complacently rose to his feet. "I'm getting it." He said simply. "We'll put it in my room if you find something better."

It had been three weeks since they'd arrived in New York. They'd finally picked out a mid-town, four bedroom condo. The place was newly renovated, and ready to move in to. The problem was, neither of the boys had any furniture. They were scrambling to get everything they needed, hoping to be out of the Plaza by the weekend.

"Oh, I will find something better." Kurt said confidently. "And you'll help me find it."

Sam shook his head. "Not gunna happen."

"Sam!" Kurt whined. "I'm not going to go couch shopping alone! That's just sad!"

"Well, then settle for this. It's cheap and practical."

"We don't need cheap and practical!" Kurt's voice was getting louder.

"Trouble in paradise…?"

A man was approaching them; just another paparazzi. He had a camera slung over his shoulder, but was approaching timidly. Sam wondered if he'd gotten a picture.

"Oh god," Kurt mumbled, he grabbed Sam's arm and started tugging him in the opposite direction. "You know why Japan's so awesome? They sit on the floor."

"Yeah," Sam said, understanding. "Maybe we should just call it a day."

Kurt looked over his shoulder. The man hadn't made much of an effort to follow, but Kurt called to him, just in case. "Don't even think about it."

Five minutes later, they were standing uncomfortably on the curb outside the store, waiting for their town car.

"Why would anyone waste their time following us?" Kurt was mumbling, almost to himself. "Are people really that curious about us?"

"I guess so…" Sam shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Kurt bit his lip for a second, deep in thought. "I want to be in control." He said finally. "What do you think about hiring a publicist? We can give the public what they want and seem gracious, and there will be someone to help with the damage control if another bad story gets out."

Sam thought about it for about half a second. But ultimately, he trusted any idea Kurt had. "If you think it would work out well, and then go for it."

A large smile broke out over Kurt's face. "All right then. I'll start my search tomorrow."

Their sleek back limo pulled up in front of them. Kurt stepped forward and chivalrously held the door open for Sam.

"I was thinking," He told Sam as he climbed in. "Can we just check out of the Plaza today? I really don't want to wait anymore. I'm getting bored."

"That depends," Sam said, as Kurt climbed in after him. "Do you think we'll have beds by tonight?"

"Not necessarily," Kurt smirked. "But I have a plan."

* * *

><p>"It's so big," Sam said, laying on his side on his brand-new sleeping bag and trying to gauge the distance between him and the nearest wall.<p>

"That's what she said," Kurt mumbled.

Sam sat up quickly, a strange look on his face. Clearly, he'd been talking about the apartment. Kurt laughed cutely at himself, pulling the marshmallow he'd been roasting over a cluster of candles off his tongs and shoving it in his mouth.

"That is the first time I've ever heard you make a 'that's what she said' joke," Sam said flatly.

"How was it?" Kurt said through his gooey mouth.

Sam had to be honest, "Mildly disturbing, and not at all believable."

Kurt rolled his eyes, swallowing his marshmallow. "Fine; that's what Blaine said. Do you believe it now?"

"No." Sam lay down again. "I can't even talk to you anymore."

Kurt laughed again, falling back on his own bag. "You underestimate my bawdy comedic instincts, Evans," Kurt said. "I can be quite dirty-minded if I try hard enough."

"The fact that you feel you have to convince me by using words like 'bawdy' makes it impossible for me to take you seriously."

"Well, what will it take?" Kurt sighed. He propped himself up on his elbow so that he could see Sam over the candles.

Sam shook his head. This conversation was becoming too much for him. "Nothing…"

"You think I'm so innocent, don't you?" Kurt asked, almost disappointed.

"There's a reason coach Sylvester called you 'porcelain'," Sam claimed. "You're like this little, innocent, doll. You blush every time a sex scene comes on in a movie. I've even seen you avert your eyes."

Kurt's jaw dropped, amused, "I have never…!"

"You're blushing now," Sam pointed out.

Kurt sat up all the way again, and Sam followed suit. Kurt pulled his knees to his chest, refusing to make eye contact with the blond as they faced each other.

"You could even ask Blaine…" Kurt said frankly, "We've done lots of stuff that's far from innocent."

Sam didn't buy it. As much as it upset him to picture Kurt and Blaine being…intimate, he wasn't going to lie to himself and say he didn't think they'd had sex. However, he couldn't possibly imagine it being anything more than the average, getting each other off while their parents ran to the supermarket, kind of thing that most teenagers experienced. He imagined that Kurt was pretty shy about it too. He wondered if he ever kept his shirt on. Suddenly - and he hated himself for it - he felt very curious. "Like what…?"

Kurt bit his lip, unsure of what he wanted to rehash. "You're my best friend," He said.

"I know," Sam said quickly; anxiously.

"And so, I'll tell you a story I've never told anyone before, but you have to promise not to ever bring it up again. To anyone."

The corners of Sam's mouth twitch. "All right…go…"

Kurt hesitated, and started blushing again. "Oh my god," He pressed his hands over his cheeks, then suddenly leaned forward and started blowing the candles out, darkening the room. "I don't want you to see my face why I talk. It's too embarrassing." He explained.

Sam was beyond intrigued.

"Okay…" Kurt's silhouette said breathily. "So... at one point, I didn't exactly know how to give a…you know…how to stimulate Blaine, like, orally."

Sam clapped his hand over his mouth, trying to control the stupid laughter that immediately escaped him.

"Shut up! You've never done it! You don't know!" Kurt cried, beside himself.

"I'm sorry…" Sam said honestly. "I just wasn't expecting that."

"Anyway…so, we had done everything else. That just happened to be an event that we skipped over."

"An event…?" Sam loved Kurt's word choices. Always.

"Shut up!" Kurt snapped again. "I would just, like, do my best to steer Blaine away from doing it to me, because I was terrified that he'd ask me to do it to him."

"Can I just stop you right there?" Sam laughed, waving his hand in the air. "I'd just like to let you know that this isn't doing anything to prove that you're not innocent."

"Sam. It was horrible." Kurt ignored him. "He just sort of whipped it out one day and said we should try."

Sam couldn't help it. He laughed again. The image of Blaine "whipping it out" was just too much. "Oh god, man, I'm sorry…" He did feel kind of bad. Kurt was right. He had no idea what it was like.

"And, like, I didn't want to. Like…what if I bit him?" Kurt whined. "And then…um…I attempted…and I was, like, really, _really_ aware of my teeth. I practically choked on it."

Sam was laughing so hard he was crying. Kurt, at that point, understood that Sam was laughing with him, he started laughing too.

"And, like, we were in the basement…"

"Wait!" Sam interrupted. "The basement I lived in?"

"You were still in Kentucky!" Kurt defended himself. "It wasn't your room yet!"

"Oh my god…I was living on top of your sexual demons for six months."

"Anyway…!" Kurt yelled, wiping tears of embarrassed laughter from his cheeks, trying to get back on track. "I just sort of let go and ran upstairs because I thought I might vomit. I didn't. I had a glass of water and I was fine. And Blaine was, like, really accepting. Like, he was almost too accepting, which I should have been suspicious of. Before he left that night, he told me we'd 'figure something out'. And of course, I was terrified of that."

"This story is…" Sam stammered. He had no words. "…this story…"

"So he goes home... I don't know who he talked to or what kind of website he visited…but the next thing I know, my phone's ringing. It's maybe midnight. And he tells me to sneak out and come over to his house. Dad and Carole were in bed, so I had no problem getting out." Sam heard Kurt take a deep breath. "I don't know why I didn't pretend to be asleep. I shouldn't have gone. I guess I had too much faith in him at that point. So...I show up in his room…and he had purchased two vats of cool whip. Not whipped cream in a nice little can. Cool whip... that artificial cream-flavored what-have-you that comes in the big plastic tub."

Sam's ribs hurt. He couldn't…

"He said that the seven-eleven that he walked to was out of whipped cream, and he said he couldn't sneak the car out to go to the grocery store." Kurt shifted his weight a bit, bracing himself for the punch line. "Blaine has this bright idea that if I'm, like, sucking it _off_ him, then it would distract me from, you know…"

"Your teeth…?" Sam asked to prove he'd been paying attention.

"Yes." Kurt cleared his throat. "My teeth,"

"And did it work?"

Kurt exploded into another fit of giggles. He tried talking several times, but it took him a minute to compose himself. "Well, the whole thing was a mess. There's Blaine…not really sure how to be sexy with these huge tubs... He ends up…just…like…sticking himself in the vat of cool whip like that kid with the pie in that movie. And, you know, that really did it for me. I didn't overcome my fear because the taste of the disgusting cream topping distracted me from the existence of my uvula. I overcame my fear because I realized that the _idiot_ in front of me, who had cream topping oozing all over his thighs and bed sheets, wasn't worth the stress."

Sam raised his eyebrows. Idiot…? "That's…wow…"

Kurt finished laughing at himself, rubbing the last few tears out of his eyes. "But god, I really love that idiot…"

Oh.

"And I guess it wasn't worth it. It's not like we were successfully kinky," Kurt laughed. "I guess I shouldn't have told you. I'm still pretty innocent."

"No…" Sam had to admit. "You really redeemed yourself with that one. It's safe to say I'll never look at you _or_ Blaine the same way ever again."

And he really meant that. That night, Sam lay awake, and inadvertently started imagining Kurt licking whipped cream off him. Unfortunately aroused, Sam had to get off the floor and tiptoe to the bathroom down the hall. After he'd taken care of himself, he realized how embarrassed he was for Blaine. He couldn't even feel jealous of the guy in that moment. He just wanted to laugh at him. But as he crawled back into his sleeping bag, he realized that it must've been true. Blaine and Kurt must've really loved each other to be able to get through all that awkwardness.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Sam woke up to find Kurt's sleeping bag rolled up and pushed against the wall. He left his out, assuming it was pointless to put it away when he was just going to use it again tonight. He wondered where in the apartment Kurt had gone.<p>

As he walked down the long hallway, he could start to make out Kurt's voice. He was clearly on the phone with someone.

"Blaine, calm down," Kurt was saying sweetly. Sam held his breath, stopping outside the doorway of the bedroom that would soon be Kurt's. "There's nothing going on with Sam and me. It's just some stupid press….Look, if it really bothers you, I'll fix it. We're about to hire a publicist. She'll get us some official interviews and we'll set the record straight. Sam will clarify that he's just my extremely heterosexual best friend, and I will clarify that I am otherwise taken…I mean that. I love you, B."

It really did strike Sam as odd. A conversation about Kurt and Blaine's sexual misadventures just cracked Sam up, but the sound of Kurt talking to him; his voice completely disclosing how much he cared, was enough to make Sam want to puke.

"Look, I know Finn's busy with work, but I don't want you to have to wait for him and Rachel…" Kurt was going on. "I want you here now: tonight…"

Sam swallowed hard. Of course Kurt would do this. Of course he'd do everything in his power to try to reassure Blaine. Like he'd said; he loved that idiot.

"We'll get you on standby. There has to be a seat available, and once you're on the plane, its two hours until you're at JFK with a car waiting for you. It's totally possible."

Sam started back down the hall. He couldn't take it anymore.

Minutes later, Kurt was following him into the kitchen. "Good morning," He said to Sam cheerfully. "We have no food here. Would you care to accompany me to brunch?"

Sam had to be casual. "No. I'm not really that hungry."

Kurt seemed a little off-put by the rejection. "Oh. Okay. Maybe I'll just run out and grab a bagel then."

"Cool."

Kurt hesitated, asking himself if he was crazy, or if Sam was actually acting weird. "Blaine's coming tonight," He said, possibly hoping for a reaction. "We're trying to get him on a flight."

"What about his car?" Sam asked.

"He wouldn't drive it in the city anyway," Kurt shrugged. "And also, I don't want him driving out here by himself."

Sam nodded. "That's cool." The apartment that had seemed so big the night before suddenly seemed smaller; suffocating. The idea of Blaine coming in and taking up his – Sam's – space, was overwhelming. "You know, I need some fresh air. I think I'm going to go for a run," Before Kurt could answer, he quickly added, "Alone…"

Ten minutes later, he was walking briskly down the street, his keys and wallet shoved into the pockets of the sweat pants he'd slept in. Kurt should've known he wasn't going jogging by the face that he'd only put his rubber flip flops on.

About a block away from his building, he came across an old man with a scraggly beard and a dirty coat sitting up against a brick wall, holding onto a cup collecting change. Sam couldn't help but feel sick about that too. Here he was, losing his mind about Kurt's boyfriend, when this guy had serious problems.

Sam dug into his wallet and removed an a hundred dollar bill, crumpling it up into a ball in his fist and dropping it into the cup as he passed. He hoped no one had seen the number on the bill before he was out of sight.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey Guys! Here's another chapter...**

**For the record, I'm ignoring a lot of season 3 canon stuff. Like, just pretend like Samcedes isn't a thing. I enjoy Samcedes to a certain extent, but it would kill a Kum fic. **

**Also, Quinn was freaking hit by a truck...and in the earlier chapters that she was in, she was definitely never hit by a truck. Yeah. Shit's still normal in this universe. So...yeah. **

**I'd love reviews if you guys care to offer them! Please enjoy! **

* * *

><p>"Wake up!"<p>

Sam's eyes popped open as a slender mass landed next to him on his mattress, causing the entire bed to shake. As he transitioned into consciousness, a smile spread over his face. He wondered how early it was. Only a hint of sunlight shone through the cracks of his blinds. The sunrise was still in its infancy.

"I'm awake," He said to Kurt, sitting up and stretching. "What's your problem?"

"We just booked our first interview today," Kurt said sweetly. "There was a cancellation and The Today Show wants us."

"We've been interviewed before," Sam reminded him.

"Not on a real talk show," Kurt sighed.

Sam slowly got out of bed, his face falling. "Right…"

"Oh come on," Kurt cried, rolling off the opposite side of the bed and following Sam out into the hallway. "Don't pretend like you're not excited."

"I'm not pretending," Sam said. He had to be honest.

"You told me you thought getting a publicist was a good idea!"

"It's too early…" Sam mumbled, as they padded into the kitchen. He looked at the counter and frowned. "Why would you wake me up before you made coffee?"

"I'm excited," Kurt told him. "I'm ready to set the rumors straight and stand up for myself."

Sam hesitated in front the coffee maker for a few minutes before deciding it wasn't worth the effort. He turned around and started for the kitchen doorway. "I'm ready to go back to sleep."

"No!" Kurt whined, diving in front of Sam and grabbing his shoulders. "I refuse to do this without you."

Sam couldn't help but react to Kurt's puppy dog eyes. "Stop it…" He tried.

"Absolutely not," Kurt continued. "You're doing this interview with me. I can't have the entire country thinking my _boyfriend_ dumped me as soon as we got to New York!"

Sam chuckled. "Shut up,"

Kurt gave Sam a little shake. "Come on. All you have to do is look pretty."

"That shouldn't be hard for him," A cold voice interrupted.

Kurt quickly recoiled, pulling his hands off Sam and spinning around.

"Good morning, baby," Kurt said to a scowling Blaine.

"Good morning," Blaine sneered. He looked at Sam. "We really have to stop meeting like this."

Sam pressed his lips together, starring down at his feet. Ever since Blaine had arrived a week earlier, Sam had felt like they had been struggling to stay out of each other's way. Sam knew he wasn't alone feeling awkward when the three of them were in the same room together.

"Now, what did you say about your boyfriend?" Blaine went on, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Kurt's torso, trying to be sweet.

"Oh, nothing," Kurt said lightly, looking to Sam nervously.

"We booked an interview," Sam told him. "Kurt really wants to do it?"

Blaine nodded thoughtfully, letting go of Kurt. "…together…?"

Kurt looked worried. "You have to understand, Blaine. Sam and I are sort of a package deal."

"I, personally, feel no desire to be exploited, but..." Sam jumped in defensively.

"But they don't want Kurt by himself," Blaine finished the sentence, somewhat bitterly. He bit his lip for a moment, and then decided to go the supportive route. "You should do it. Both of you should."

"I agree," Kurt said softly, looking gratefully at his boyfriend.

"It's the perfect opportunity for you two to set the record straight," Blaine continued. "Sam, you can tell the press how outstandingly heterosexual you are. Maybe then 'gay teen millionaires' will stop trending on Yahoo."

Kurt smiled at Sam. "He's probably right."

"Right…" Sam nodded. _Outstandingly heterosexual._

* * *

><p>"Oh my god… This is incredible!" Kurt said, walking into the green room and straight to the stone coffee table, where somebody had left a pitcher of ice water and a bowl of M&amp;Ms. He picked up the bowl and held it towards Sam. "Is your sweet tooth bothering you?" He grinned stupidly.<p>

Sam chuckled weakly. The boys had just left hair and make-up, and Sam was fighting the urge to scratch off the dense foundation that was irritating his face. He shook his head. "No, I'm good."

Kurt looked down at the M&Ms, and then set them back on the table without touching them.

A light knock came on the door. Before they could call her in, their publicist, Abby, shuffled in. "Are you boys doing all right?" She asked. "God you two both look so handsome."

"Thanks, Abby. You're a doll." Kurt cooed.

"Right back at you, baby-face," Sam noticed that her button-nose crinkled up when she grinned. She looked like a rodent.

Abby was this thirty-something woman who was so tiny she could pass for a junior high school student. She had a pin-straight blond bob and wore a tight spandex dress under a blazer, as if she was attending a club opening. She held onto a clipboard that was not only purple, but covered in glitter. Sam wondered what had been going through Kurt's mind when he hired her. She didn't seem very professional.

"So, what's the deal?" Kurt asked her.

"Oh, honey, they've got some great stuff to talk to y'all about,"

Sam cringed. She was southern too. Her accent was slight, but it existed, and it automatically reminded Sam of his first grade teacher back in Tennessee, Mrs. Finch. Sam had hated Mrs. Finch more than anyone on the planet. His dyslexia hadn't been diagnosed until second grade, so he spent an entire year with Mrs. Finch trying to force-feed him the alphabet. He remembered crying during class because she'd make him feel stupid. She'd call on him entirely too often, and the other kids would pick on him. It got to the point where he'd get scolded for refusing to answer her questions. He didn't know what else to do. He was tired of being wrong all the time.

He knew he couldn't hate Abby just because she reminded him of his traumatic experiences, but honestly that was only part of it. He had a lot of reasons to dislike her.

"So, Sam, I want you to tell them about living in that motel…" She said, widening her inhumanely huge brown eyes at him. "You _literally_ have one of those rags to riches stories. And Kurt, people are fascinated by the fact that your father is a congressman. They're going to ask you about that. Maybe talk about his stance on same-sex marriage and how it might affect your life if you ever decided to move back to Ohio. We could get all political, you know, make a point about how all the money in the world can't make you two completely happy."

Sam's head was spinning. She was going way too fast. "Wait, how did you know about the motel?"

"Kurt told me at my interview," Abby said lightly. "It's really amazing. Like. Wow. I'm even eating this shit up."

Sam looked at Kurt, unsure of how to feel. It wasn't completely a secret that he'd been homeless, but part of him wished Kurt had consulted him before making it part of his story. "Yeah, that's cool…" He heard himself say. Because maybe it was his fault. Maybe he should have taken a more active position in the hiring process.

"Actually, I'm not sure about talking about the marriage thing…" Kurt said slowly, his eyes narrowing. "You know, Sam and I aren't together, right?"

Abby froze, blinking, dumbfounded. "Oh…you didn't tell me _that_ in the interview."

"You didn't ask," Kurt shrugged casually. He seemed relieved to have finally told the truth. Sam crossed his arms and stared at the floor. He had nothing to say.

"I'm sorry," Abby pressed a palm to her flushed cheek. "I just assumed…all the articles…"

Kurt interrupted. "They made assumptions. I actually have a boyfriend, Blaine, who I love more than anything, but unfortunately still has a year left of high school. Also, Sam's straight as an arrow. We're just best friends."

Abby laughed incredulously. "Well, my gaydar needs to be looked at," She told Sam. He forced a smile of acknowledgment. "I'm really sorry. You guys just seem so close."

"We are," Sam heard himself say.

"Well, then, you can talk about how hard it is to leave Blake behind," Deborah told him. He didn't even correct her name-flub. "They'll ask you a question along the lines of what it's like to leave Ohio, and you can talk about him. People will be surprised, but shock is intriguing."

Kurt nodded. "Oh, of course…"

"All right then," She grinned, tapping on her clip board. "Well, I'll come and get you two when it's time to get on deck."

"Perfect," Kurt said, waving goofily to her as she clacked out of the room in her stilettos.

Kurt sighed contently and turned to grin at Sam. "She's great, isn't she?"

Sam widened his eyes and nodded, but he was a horrible actor. He went around the coffee table and sat on the leather couch.

"You don't like her." Kurt came to sit next to him. "Why, what's wrong with her?"

"Nothing…" Sam laughed. "It's not important."

"You should have come with me to meet with her."

"I would've missed the daily block of _Fresh Prince _on channel nine. I would've gone back to it the next day and had no clue what was going on." This was actually kind of true. Honestly, Sam's interest in everything was just too minimal to actually change out of his sweat pants just to meet with a silly publicist. He'd trusted Kurt. And even though Kurt had picked someone Sam didn't immediately like, he still trusted him. Kurt cared enough for the both of them, and Sam was going to have to be okay with that.

The thing that Sam wasn't okay with was all of the declarations that he was straight. He felt an enormous guilt pawing at him from the inside. After years of passing as adorably metro, people were finally just starting to assume. He actually kind of liked it.

The fact was that it didn't matter to him. People were people. Love was love. He didn't care about labels. He didn't want a label, and it frustrated him that his sexuality mattered to everyone else.

"Kurt…" He heard himself speak, his voice straining. He wasn't going to go out and tell America that he was straight. Even if he didn't have a word he preferred to use for what he was, he _knew_ what he wasn't. He wasn't going to lie to an entire nation.

Kurt face twisted strangely. "…are you all right there?"

Sam swallowed, his mouth suddenly felt dry. He licked his lips. How was he supposed to say this? Would Kurt be mad at him for not telling him sooner? Would Kurt care? Mercedes and Rachel had never come out as straight to him and they were still his friends. Was it different because he'd never assumed they were lesbians? It seemed like sort of an unfair double standard. "Kurt look…about the interview,"

"Oh my god," Kurt scoffed. "Are you seriously going to tell me you have cold feet? Honestly, I refuse to accept that."

"No, listen to me," Sam said quickly. "There's something you should know. I'm not going to…"

Suddenly the door popped open again. Abby flew into the room.

"I guess they're taking you two sooner than we expected," She told them, her voice unnecessarily loud. "You're on deck. Come on."

She flew out the room again, expecting them to follow. Sam hesitated.

"If you have something to say, you better spit it out," Kurt told him.

"No. I'm just…I'm glad we're doing this," Sam lied. He wanted to kick himself. Why was he such an inadvertent good sport about everything?

A cocky grin crept over Kurt's face. "I told you that would happen."

* * *

><p>Sam lay in bed that afternoon with a cold washcloth rolled up and placed over his eyes. He hadn't had any caffeine today, and he'd decided that he'd earned the torture of deprivation. The pounding headache suited his mood. He deserved the agony.<p>

He couldn't stop re-playing the interview in his head.

_"So, you two must be getting pretty cozy? Did you spring for a two-bedroom apartment in case you get tired of each other?" The female interviewer asked them. _

_ "Oh, well, I could never get tired of Sam," Kurt said lightly. "We actually lived together for most of our senior year. His parents were in Kentucky, so we kept a roof over his head until graduation."_

_ "Oh my," The male co-host grinned. "There must have been a lot of after-hours sneaking around."_

_ The audience went wild. Sam found it strange. Was this okay conversation for network television? Were people really okay with implications of gay sex? It seemed a little early in the morning for national controversy. _

_"Oh, god, no…!" Kurt cried, he looked over at Sam, a deathly look in his eyes telling him to contribute. _

_ "It wasn't like that," Sam said quickly. _

_ "Yes. I don't think my **boyfriend** would've liked that very much,"_

_ "Yeah, I would have been in for some trouble," Sam nodded. "Blaine's a small guy, but he's picked a fight with me before and he'd do it again."_

_ "I'm sorry, I'm confused," The lady said, amazed. "Who's Blaine?"_

_ "Kurt's boyfriend," Sam said._

_ Kurt said simultaneously. "The love of my life…"_

_ Sam wanted to die. _

_ "Oh my god… You two aren't even a couple!" The woman cried. _

_ "Not even kind of," Kurt shrugged. "As I said, I have a boyfriend, and believe it or not, Sam's playing for the other team."_

_ She looked at Sam expectantly. He shrugged and nodded. What else was he supposed to do?_

_ "Well, in that case, see me after the show," The woman said in an attempt of comedy, lowering her head and leaning toward him suggestively. _

_ Sam nodded confidently to the audience, pretending to enjoy it because that seemed to be what celebrities did when someone complimented them. _

_ "He's really just the best friend a guy could ask for," Kurt said, reaching out and grabbing Sam's forearm. "I'm as lucky to have him as I am to have Blaine, but I want everyone to know that it's completely platonic…"_

_ …_Platonic. As much as Sam wanted to believe that Kurt's view of their relationship would change if he'd told him he liked guys, he knew it was unlikely. Blaine was, after all, the love of his life. Still, Sam couldn't believe what he'd done. He'd let everyone believe he was straight. He felt like a dirty, lying coward.

Someone knocked lightly on his bedroom door.

"Yeah…?" He grunted, lacking the will-power to sit up and speak for real.

He heard the door creak open. "Are you okay?" Kurt's voice asked him, concerned to see him lying so lifeless on the bed.

Sam quickly pulled the washcloth off his face. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at Kurt's sweet, concerned face.

"You've been in here all day," Kurt told him, coming to sit on the end of the bed. "What's the matter?"

"I'm fine. I have a headache."

"Do you want some Tylenol? I have some in my room…"

"Thanks, but I don't like swallowing pills," Sam admitted.

"I could pick you up some baby Tylenol?" Kurt suggested cutely. "…The orange flavored stuff. I could blend it into a fruit smoothie or something and you wouldn't even taste it."

Sam laughed at the ridiculous offer. "You wouldn't do that..."

"Oh, you would be astonished by what I would do for you, Sam Evans," Kurt said playfully.

Sam felt a lump forming in his throat. He swallowed uneasily. "I appreciate it," He said weakly.

Kurt slowly frowned, and he reached over, pressing his impossibly soft hand against Sam's forehead. He held it there for a minute, contemplating. His touch sent shivers down Sam's spine. His headache actually seemed to go away for those few seconds.

"You don't seem to be running a fever," Kurt pulled his hand away. Sam wanted more than anything to grab it again; to beg to hold it for the rest of the night. He stared at Kurt with big, sad eyes, not even thinking about how pathetic he must have looked. "Are you okay?" Kurt asked him, laughing strangely.

"Kurt, I haven't been completely honest with you," Sam finally spit out. "I've been keeping something for a long time, and it's really just time to say it."

Kurt didn't invite him to continue, but he cocked his head curiously, waiting. That was enough.

"I don't play for a different team. I mean, does that matter? I mean…" He didn't even know what he was saying at this point. "What I mean is that I've realized lately that choosing a team sucks and also, you know, I like guys, so I'm not going to tell people I'm straight anymore...if that's okay."

Kurt's eyes widened and a smile of amazement came across his face. "Shut up!" He cried. "Seriously, you're telling me that I was right junior year!"

"I mean, at the time I hadn't realized it yet."

"Wow!" Kurt was really enjoying the information. Sam took that as a good sign. He felt a wave of relieve and hope wash over him. "So…have you hooked up with anyone yet? Is it someone I know? Do you have a secret boyfriend? Oh my god. Are you in love with Finn? Because I can safely say I've been there, and in a weird way you two would make a much better couple than we would have and you guys spent a lot of afternoons watching cartoons together…and I know it sucks that he's straight, but you'll meet someone better soon enough…"

"Whoa!" Sam had been waving his hand in front of Kurt. He finally managed to cut him off. "Stop it. I'm not in love with Finn. Just because I'm gay, doesn't mean I'm automatically in love with anyone!" He felt weird after he said it. He'd just said he was gay. Was he really?

Kurt laughed. "I'm sorry. I guess I have trouble relating. My problem is that I've never _just _been gay. I was always head-over-heels. I mean, there was only a brief window between Finn and Blaine, and ironically I filled it with you." Kurt's expression seemed to darken at this realization. He gave Sam a small smile. "And I thought I could never have you…not that I'm saying I could now." He said quickly. "God, I'm sorry. No one's ever really come out to me before. Am I awful at this?"

"Just a little bit," Sam teased. In actuality, he was glad Kurt was talking so much, because he couldn't think of anything to say.

"Well I'm glad you've discovered this part of yourself," Kurt laughed. "And I'm glad you realized it before you were married with kids."

"Me too," Sam laughed.

Kurt sighed, and began to lift himself off the bed. "I should probably get back to Blaine. He's ironing my shirts for me…probably in an attempt to get me to put out tonight,"

Sam laughed uncomfortably. Kurt didn't seem too happy about that. "I hope you've stocked up on cool whip…" Sam said maliciously.

Kurt's jaw dropped and his face turned red. "I thought we were never going to bring this up again!"

Sam shrugged. "I couldn't help it."

"You're lucky I'm a nice person," Kurt told him, wagging a finger at him as he moved toward the bedroom doorway. "When you're getting ready to give your first blow job, just let me know and we'll practice on some popsicles or something."

Sam cracked up. "I think I'll manage without you,"

"Of course you will," Kurt said. He pulled open the door.

Sam watched him go out into the hallway, but a weight on his chest told him the conversation wasn't finished yet.

"Wait!" He called after him, hopping off the bed, prepared to chase him if he had to. Kurt re-appeared in the doorway.

"I'm not just going to stand around and listen to you mock me, Evans!" Kurt cried.

"No…" Sam smiled. "I just wanted to let you know…you could've."

"What?" Kurt wasn't following.

Sam swallowed again. "You could've had me then. You would've just had to try a little harder, you know? Maybe if you'd dropped in on another one of my showers or did _Singing in the Rain_ with me like you said you would..."

Kurt rolled his eyes. Sam was surprised that he had nothing to say to that; that he was taking it so lightly. "Good night, Samuel. Tend to your headache. Holler if you need an aspirin... or an MRI."

"Um...yeah...okay..." Was that really all Kurt was going to say to him?

With that, Kurt patted him on the shoulder, and went down the hallway. Sam watched him disappear into his own room. He felt better having told the truth, but at the same time, he felt emptier than ever.

The problem was that he'd lost Kurt. He was right down the hall, but Sam had lost him to Blaine two years earlier. If only he'd realized how much he'd end up loving him when they met.

Sam couldn't take it anymore. He felt too hopeless and alone. He needed reinforcements.

He went back to his bed, and grabbed his phone from his nightstand before sitting down. He dialed quickly, anxiously holding it to his ear.

"Hey," The voice on the other end answered.

"Hey," Sam said back. "So, how would you feel about spending a couple of days out here?"


	7. Chapter 7

**This is a quick update, but I really wanted to show Kurt's side of things seeing how he seemed so indifferent at the end of the last chapter. Enjoy! **

* * *

><p>Kurt was silent. His fingernails dug into Blaine's shoulders, sucking on his neck as he came inside of him. As he pulled out and started to pull away from his boyfriend, Blaine had to grab Kurt's hand to remind him to finish him off. Kurt completed the task reluctantly, and then forcefully untangled his limbs from the other boy's.<p>

Blaine lay flat on his back, panting heavily as Kurt lifelessly rolled onto his side and stared at the doors of his closet.

It had all been a sort of robotic reaction. He'd heard the words "you could have had me" come out of Sam's mouth, and he panicked. He heard himself mutter something about an MRI, and then got away as quickly as he could. He marched into his room, and immediately started ripping Blaine's clothes off, because at the moment it seemed like the only thing to do.

And now, it was all sinking in. Two years of memories were flashing through his head, and he wasn't sure what to make of them anymore. He loved Blaine. He was sure of that. He had just gone out of his way to prove it to himself.

But what kind of thing was that to tell someone? "You could have had me"? It was a statement that was impossible not to think about. If he had let himself love Sam, things would have been so different. Maybe Sam would've been his rock through the Karofsky situation, and maybe when Sam had told him not to transfer to Dalton; that he could protect him; Kurt might have listened.

It was too much for him. On one hand, falling in love with his best friend was a nice thought to entertain, but then again, isn't that what he'd done with Blaine? Kurt was angry. He was angry at himself for never realizing Sam liked guys; angry at all the times they'd gotten a little too hands-on or had fallen asleep together, and he'd thought that they were just a couple of bros messing around. Most of all, he was angry at the fact that he was lying in bed with his boyfriend, thinking about a guy who probably didn't even currently like him. Kurt didn't even know what that meant: "You could have had me"…

Kurt swallowed, feeling like he might burst into tears at any moment. He wasn't even sure why. He wrapped his arms tightly around his pillow and buried his face in it.

"Kurt…" He felt Blaine's hand on his bare, sweaty shoulder. "What's the matter? Did I do something wrong?"

Blaine was so nice, and spoke so gently that in only made Kurt feel worse about even thinking about what Sam had said; even considering the possibility of loving Sam more than Blaine. He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, his back to his boyfriend.

"I'm fine," He squeaked unconvincingly. That was it. The tears started to fall. He choked back a pathetic sob. "I um…think I have a piece of lint in my eye."

"Bull shit," Blaine mumbled in return. "You're crying after you fucked me. I'm going to take that as a sign that something went wrong."

"God…!" Kurt snapped at him. "Do you always have to use that word? I hate that word. It's disgusting."

"Look, Kurt…" Blaine was trying his best to stay calm. "You came in here and attacked me. You barely gave me time to turn the iron off. This was all you. I don't really know what's going on..."

"Me neither!" Kurt admitted. "I'm sorry. It's not you…"

Kurt bowed his head, tears pouring down his face. Blaine dragged his naked form over to Kurt and knelt behind him on the mattress, wrapping his arms around the taller boy's torso and resting his chin on his shoulder. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Kurt leaned his wet cheek into a kiss. "I know…" He said weakly.

Blaine nodded. "Good," He kissed Kurt's cheek again, then got back down on the mattress. "Not let me hold you."

Kurt crawled after him, so he could spend the rest of the night in his arms.

* * *

><p>Around three in the morning, Kurt gave up on falling asleep. He stealthily slid off the bed and tiptoed to the closet to put on some pajamas.<p>

He walked out into the living room to find Sam sitting on his prized Ikea couch, his laptop open in his lap, eating some sort of Wonder Bread sandwich. Kurt went rigid. He wasn't even sure how to face Sam. Would Sam still want to talk about his sexuality? Kurt almost spun around and went right on back to his room, but then he realized that A) that might seem kind of awkward, and B) it was inevitable that he and Sam would have to talk again at some point in time. He might as well get it over with.

He braced himself. "Hey…"

Sam looked up, a goofy smile on his face. "What's up? I've been on Youtube for hours," He said. "Finn posted a video of two turtles doing it on my wall, which linked me to a bunch of _Ninja Turtles_ clips, which got me watching _Ah! Real Monsters_, and, long story short, now I'm watching a trailer for a documentary about Monica Lewinsky."

Kurt laughed strangely. Sam was acting so casual. Maybe Kurt had overreacted. The conversation hadn't meant anything. It was just words. He needed to chill. He uncomfortably went over to the couch and sat himself as far away from Sam as he possibly could.

"I finally caved," Sam continued to explain. "I've had about four cups of coffee since ten. I've peed, like, twelve times."

"Fascinating…" Kurt said lightly.

"Definitely," Sam said, his eyes glued to his screen as he slowly typed out some comment or another. "Could you not sleep?"

"Blaine was snoring," Kurt lied.

"Ah. You wanna watch a movie?" Sam asked. "You said you got some new Blue Rays, right?"

Kurt nodded. "We could watch _The Graduate._"

Sam grinned. "Pop it in," If there was one major thing the two of them had in common, it was their love for Dustin Hoffman.

Once Kurt had put the disk in the player, he was a bit more comfortable sitting close to Sam. He had finally talked himself into believing that he'd cried for nothing. Nothing had changed. He needed to get over himself.

"I love this song," Sam said about a minute into the movie, as Simon and Garfunkel's _The Sound of Silence_ played. "It would've made a great duet in Glee club."

Kurt eyes shot to Sam nervously. He was bringing up duets? …Really? They had almost sang a duet together. What did he mean, even, by bringing up duets?

"I couldn't agree more," Kurt told him quickly but coolly.

No. It was normal. They were watching a normal movie on a normal couch as normal friends. He had not just thought about Sam the entire time he was having sex with another guy, and even if he _had _been thinking about him, it wasn't like he was thinking sexually about him. That would be weird.

Kurt was exhausting himself. Swallowing the expanding lump in his throat, he leaned back on the cheap, uncomfortable couch and yawned. He would focus on the Movie; on Ben and Mrs. Robinson and Elaine. His mind just needed to take a vacation.

* * *

><p>The next thing Kurt knew, he blinked and it was morning. He was waking up with Sam's head on his chest. In a reflexive panic, he slid out from under Sam, letting the blond boy's head hit the cushion with a thud. Sam woke up with a start.<p>

Kurt grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table, quickly getting rid of the glowing Blue-ray screen saver.

Sam groggily sat up. "Did we fall asleep?"

"No," Kurt replied sarcastically. "We both have multiple personalities and lost the last six hours while our alters worked up an assassination conspiracy."

Before Sam could think of a decent comeback, Kurt had disappeared down the hall.

Kurt uneasily made his way back to his room. He pushed the door open slowly, a rush of relief hitting him as he saw Blaine's motionless form under his Egyptian cotton sheets. He was still asleep, meaning he hadn't seen Kurt basically cuddling with another guy. Kurt tiptoed to the bed and crawled in next to Blaine, trying to cause as little motion as possible.

However, Blaine immediately began to stir, and Kurt placed a delicate hand on his back, hoping that if it seemed like he was waking him up on purpose, then Blaine would never know that he hadn't spent the night in their bed.

"Good Morning, baby," Kurt said softly. His voice was even higher than usual, which always happened when he felt guilty. He hoped Blaine hadn't picked up on that yet. "Are you ready for Yoga class?"

"If you're still up for it…" Blaine replied. He sat up and swiveled to crack his back. "Are you feeling better than last night?"

Kurt nodded quickly. "I'm feeling spectacular. Get dressed. I'll make you some breakfast. What do you want?"

"Surprise me."

Kurt's face fell as he left his room again and made his way to the kitchen. He started to put on a pot of coffee. As he began to think about how nice Sam's hair had smelled, and how wonderful it was to catch a whiff of it before he opened his eyes and realized where he was, his frustration grew. Every one of his movements as he got his cooking tools out was rough and rigid.

"Whoa, what's going on in here?" Sam asked, following him into the kitchen, having gotten dressed in the short amount of time it took Kurt to check on Blaine. "It sounds like that scene in _Tarzan_ where the monkeys play a song by breaking everything."

Kurt couldn't hold in his feelings anymore. He turned to glare at his friend. "I'm mad at you." He told him simply.

Sam's jaw dropped. "What did I do?"

"What _was_ that?" Kurt cried. "What are you trying to pull?"

"Are you talking about how I fell asleep?" Sam asked stupidly. "The last time I checked, that was a natural bodily function. You did it too."

"Bodily function…?" Kurt raised his eyebrows. "You're making it sound like a bought of diarrhea."

"Oh the imagery…"

"_I could have had you_?" Kurt exploded. "What am I supposed to do with that?"

Sam forced a laugh. "Kurt, it's not like that. I didn't mean to freak you out or anything. I'd just never want you to think you weren't good enough for me."

"Don't give me that, Sam. I know you better than anyone. I can read you like a book."

"I really didn't mean it," Sam said nervously. It almost seemed like he was cracking, though.

"I don't need your flattery, Evans. I have Blaine for that!"

"Of course," Sam was nearing his own edge.

"I do!" Kurt continued confidently. "I have Blaine, and he is _everything_ I ever wanted."

"Who are you talking to?" Sam cried. "I know that! The only reason you feel the need to tell me again is because you have to reassure _yourself_!"

"Stop it!" Kurt screamed at him. "You aren't inside my head!"

"Oh, but _I _know _you _better than anyone," Sam grinned wickedly. "I can read you like a book."

"Well, with you, that's not saying much," Kurt said meanly.

Sam's face fell. Kurt regretted his words instantly. Neither of them had been planning on aiming so low.

"Why did you even pick me?" Sam asked quietly. "You could've played the lottery with anyone. Why did you even choose me?"

"Please…" Kurt replied, his voice weak. "I never thought we'd win."

Sam shook his head. All along, he could never buy it that Kurt had only bought those tickets as a novelty gift. He had to have had some sort of fantasy for the two of them. He had to have at least an inkling of reality motivating him.

"You know, you're a real hypocrite, Kurt," Sam said, wishing he had a way to be equally nasty. "All through High School you talked a good game about being out and proud, but the second I decide to be honest about who I am, you act as if you'd prefer I go back in the closet."

"Stop it. That isn't what this is about."

"Well then, figure out why you're being such a douche bag, and get back to me," Sam said darkly. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to go. I have an hour to get to LaGuardia."

"LaGuardia…?" Kurt cried helplessly. "Where are you going? And why the hell would you fly out of LaGuardia?"

Sam just shrugged and headed out the door, slamming the door behind him.

Kurt wanted to scream, but refrained on account of remembering that he had neighbors. Instead, he channeled his anger into the omelet he was preparing for Blaine. He'd never cracked an egg so violently in his life.

After about ten minutes or so, Blaine timidly walked in on the spectacle. "We don't exactly have sound proof walls," He said quietly. "I mean...didn't catch all of that, but it sounded pretty heated."

Kurt stared at his bowl of eggs for a moment, trying to think of the best thing to say.

He looked up at Blaine. "I'm so sorry."

"…For what?" Blaine asked urgently. "What exactly is going on here?"

"I don't know," Kurt explained. "One minute we're best friends and the next…he's telling me I never should have given up on him; that I could have…" Kurt couldn't even finish.

"I knew it!" Blaine snapped. "I knew that he was the reason you were acting so weird last night! What does that mean: give up on him?"

"I had this stupid crush on him for, like, two seconds junior year. It doesn't really matter… I just have this horrible feeling that he's going to keep trying to fuck things up."

"I thought he was straight." Blaine said, almost angrily.

"Yeah, well, so did I," Kurt said quietly. He looked helplessly at the other boy. It was almost like he was apologizing. He didn't want Sam to be an issue anymore, and he needed Blaine to understand.

Blaine suddenly realized that he had to swallow his suspicions. He had to trust that Kurt wasn't going to leave him. He didn't say anything else. The two of them stood in silence for a long, uncomfortable moment.

"I'll make breakfast," Blaine told him. "You go get ready. We'll be late for yoga if you do all this."

* * *

><p>Sam sat in the back of his town car, unable to move. He was paralyzed with depression; with fear that nothing would ever be the same again; with the pain of knowing he'd somehow upset the love of his life.<p>

The car door popped open.

"Looking good, Daddy Warbucks!"

Sam couldn't help but smile at Quinn as she slid into the seat next to him.

"Hey! How are you? How was your flight?" He leaned over and hugged her.

"Oh, you know, you _did_ buy me a seat in first class so it's safe to say I was pretty comfortable."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it." Sam replied half heartedly.

Quinn examined him for a moment. "Are you okay?"

Sam hesitated. He wasn't sure he wanted to dump all his problems on Quinn, but then he remembered the reason he'd called her out to New York: He needed to dump them on somebody.

"Kurt and I had this big fight," He told her.

"Oh no! What happened?" She asked as their driver started to pull away from the curb.

"Well, I came out to him…" Sam told her.

Quinn's brow furrowed. "Wait." She cocked her head. "Out of what…?"

Sam eyed her sheepishly, as her jaw dropped. He rolled his eyes. "Are you really that surprised?"

"Not even kind of!" Quinn laughed. "I just thought it would take you longer."

Sam sighed heavily, leaning back in his seat. "I think he thinks I want to, like, sabotage his relationship. He's, like, mad at me for saying anything."

"What…?" Quinn cried. "What a douche bag!"

"Not really. The conversation sort of turned to something else. I don't know what I was thinking…" Sam shook his head, ashamed. "I mean, he was talking about how he thought he couldn't have me junior year, and I just sort of…told him that wouldn't have been the case if he'd tried a little harder."

"Asshole, you were dating me junior year," Quinn gave him a playful shove.

"I mean, is that really bad?" Sam asked her. "Was it wrong for me to say that? It's not like I was asking him to break up with Blaine. I was just…telling the truth. The thing was I thought we could just move past it, and last night after it happened that's what we did. We just moved past it. But then we fell asleep on the couch together, and this morning he freaked out on me."

Quinn was smiling strangely. She bit her lip in thought. "It sounds like he's scared,"

"Of me…?" Sam thought that sounded ridiculous.

"…Of change." Quinn shrugged. "You two are closer than any two guy friends I know. That didn't seem to mean much when there was no potential for sexual attraction. You fucked up the dynamic, Sam. You opened this door that Kurt can't go through because he's with Blaine, and it's frustrating for him because obviously he's going to be intrigued."

"I know…" Sam sighed.

"But do you?" Quinn asked. "Sam, you ran away to New York with another guy's boyfriend. I know Kurt's the one who bought those tickets, but you were the one who followed him here."

Sam felt like he was under attack. He jumped into defense mode. "Well what was I supposed to do?" He asked loudly. "I love him, okay? I need to be near him. I wasn't just going to take the money and go. Not after he chose me to share it with."

"Sam, I have to be honest," Quinn sighed. "I think you guys got lucky. I don't think he really chose you for anything."

Hearing the same claim Kurt had made that morning coming from the mouth of an un-biased third party was too painful for Sam. He looked at Quinn. "I don't think we got lucky," He told her confidently. "I think that the fates are working for us. I made a wish on my birthday, Quinn. All I wanted was him and I think that this is the universe's way of giving him to me."

Quinn pursed her lips, and nodded. He could tell she wasn't buying it, but at least she was keeping her mouth shut. It was unbearable for him to realize that she didn't take him seriously.

"We should grab some lunch," Sam told her weakly. "Do you want to get lunch?"

Quinn sighed, scooting closer to him and linking her arm in his, just like Kurt always did. "I would love that."


	8. Chapter 8

**Another quick update. I was really looking forward to writing Sebastian again, so I wanted to knock this one out of the park while I was on a roll. If you haven't checked your alerts in a while, chapters 6 and 7 are from the last 48 hours, so be cautious. **

**It's a short chapter, but it's significant. Thank you so much for your reviews! I'm so glad people are enjoying this. **

* * *

><p>"Step one, get drunk," Quinn told Sam, raising her voice over the pounding techno music.<p>

They'd come to a place called _Liza's. _It was only a few blocks from the condo and had a rainbow flag in the window. Quinn had told Sam after he'd spent their first afternoon together moping around that he needed a night out; that he needed to really get himself on the market.

"Alcohol doesn't solve your problems," Sam told her lightly as she dragged him over to the bar.

"You're right," She nodded, pretending to be in complete agreement with him. "It only makes them funnier."

Sam looked around at all the guys. He could admit that some of them were attractive, but he had no idea how to even begin to approach one of them.

"Maybe we should just go home," He told her nervously.

"No. We're on a mission. We won't leave until you have a guy's number. You'll feel more confident if you get a couple of drinks in you first."

"Quinn…" Sam said hesitantly. "My life doesn't revolve around guys. This was a bad idea."

"No. Right now, your life revolves around Kurt and it's a problem. That's why I had to get you out of that apartment." Sam sighed heavily as she scanned the area for a bar tender. "I wonder what kind of scotch they have here."

"Don't bother," A random man at the bar jumped in. Quinn and Sam looked at him, caught off guard.

He wasn't dressed like the other guys, who were decked out in cool tops and skinny jeans. He looked like he had come straight from working at a law-firm, in a tailored suit and silk tie. He was extremely handsome, with a chiseled, stubbly jaw and strong-looking hands.

"Excuse me?" Quinn asked, trying not to check him out.

"Clearly, I have no problem with gay people. However, the stuff these guys drink is sewage. I'm telling you, you won't find any drink here that isn't named after a pop star or ends in 'tini'."

"Oh…" Quinn looked at Sam, her face comically confused. Sam just chuckled.

She looked back at the man, who was extending his hand to her. "My name's Josh."

She shook it pleasantly. "Quinn…"

"Well, Quinn, I've always appreciated a woman with a taste for scotch." He told her. It was obvious to Sam that this guy was flirting. He almost felt uncomfortable witnessing it.

"I'm sorry…" Quinn finally said. "Are you gay?"

The man chuckled. "No. I'm just playing wing-man for an old friend, but it appears he doesn't actually need my help. What about you?"

"Oh…no...I'm not..." Quinn said, her cheeks turning red.

"Then I guess we're both odd ones out tonight," Josh told her cheekily. "Care to drink to that?"

Quinn's eyes sparkled, and she nodded eagerly. Sam quickly realized that he didn't want to be a cock block. He leaned in to whisper in Quinn's ear. "I'll be down the bar if you need me."

"What?" She spun around.

"Uh…I see someone I want to try talking to," He lied. That was good enough for her.

Ten minutes later, he was on his second drink, and Quinn was on the dance floor with Josh.

"Well if it isn't the happiest hetero…"

Oh no. Sam turned slowly to see Sebastian Smythe lowering himself onto the stool next to his. He'd almost forgotten what Sebastian had told him when he went to get his last check from the club: that he was spending the summer in New York.

"I loved your interview on The Today Show. I put it on my blog and every one of my followers commented on how awful your bleach-job looked under those studio lights."

"Really: all five of your followers said the same thing…?" Sam asked tonelessly, taking a slow drink from his vodka-tonic.

Sebastian laughed, amused, and moved on. "You better be careful. I just saw your Nazi-approved gal pal on the dance floor with some guy." He tilted his head toward Quinn. "I hate to break it to you, but you two are _kind of_ at the wrong bar."

"We know where we are." Sam said simply.

"Oh," Sebastian smirked. "Well, you better not let the paparazzi find you here. I don't think Blaine would be too happy to read that his boyfriend is living without a chaperone in an apartment full of fruit."

"Blaine knows," Sam told him bluntly. Sebastian wasn't going to win. He had nothing on him. "And trust me: he's been breathing down our necks ever since he got here."

Sebastian briefly lost his composure. "Blaine's in New York?" He asked quickly; eagerly.

"Don't get excited. He and Kurt are as happy as ever. They're taking a pottery class together…"

"That's horrifying," Sebastian scoffed. "What is he doing? Kurt's turning him into a 60-year-old woman."

"Yeah, well, I wish I could be that 60-year-old woman," Sam admitted. Under less-alcoholic circumstances he'd never open up to Sebastian, but he was getting desperate.

"To each his own, I guess." Sebastian sighed.

Sam nodded thoughtfully. He took another sip and looked back at Sebastian. He looked really good in his light blue button-down, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his toned forearms. Sam realized how natural it felt to be sitting at a bar having a conversation with him. Maybe he'd judged him too harshly during those months he'd worked at the club. Maybe Sebastian wasn't such a bad guy. Sam threw his head back and finished off the rest of his drink.

"I'll make you a deal?" He told Sebastian sloppily. "I'll cover your tab tonight if you agree to stop talking about Kurt and Blaine… and come dance with me."

Sebastian's face crept into a wicked smile. "You spoil me, caddy," Sebastian told him. "I'd do that for free. All you had to do was ask."

Sam and Sebastian moved out to the dance floor, where they begun to move around to the pounding bass, their faces glowing under the strobe lights.

"I really like the music they play here," Sebastian yelled over the noise. "Techno was pretty much all I listened to when I lived in Europe."

"What…?" Sam still couldn't hear him.

Sebastian smirked, dancing closer to Sam. "I said I like this song," He said, into his ear.

Sam nodded, understanding, and was surprised that Sebastian didn't re-establish the space that had formally been between them. They were only inches from each other, moving awkwardly to the rhythm. At first they were looking over each other's shoulders, but soon Sebastian initiated eye contact.

"You're a good dancer," He told Sam, grinning.

God, he had a cute smile. Suddenly, (and once again, the drinks he'd had probably weren't assisting his decision-making process) Sam decided to say "screw it". He grabbed Sebastian's hips and pulled them toward him so that they were full on grinding. Just as he was really getting into it, though, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He jumped away from Sebastian to find Quinn smiling strangely.

"Well, I didn't expect you to find someone so...familiar," She laughed. "Hi Sebastian,"

Sebastian gave her a quick nod of acknowledgment, still moving to the beat.

"It looks like you're well-occupied," Quinn told Sam. "Would you mind if I got out of here?"

"Why?" Sam said. She had grabbed his arm and pulled him off the dance floor slightly so that they could hear each other.

"It's just that Josh is totally bored and he offered to buy me dinner,"

Sam's smiled goofily. "Who…? The suit…?" He looked over to the bar entrance, where the guy they'd met a mere thirty minutes before was waiting for Quinn.

"He's sweet," Quinn shrugged. "But if you don't want me to ditch you..."

"No, go!" Sam told her. "Sebastian will take care of me."

Quinn widened her eyes in disbelief and shook her head toward the dance floor. "In a city of millions you manage to pick up the one person Kurt Hummel hates the most. What was that you were saying about fate?"

Sam gave her playful shove. "Go. Josh is waiting."

"Love you!" She called, walking away.

Sam watched her grab Josh's hand and head out the door. He sighed, genuinely happy for her, and genuinely happy that he wouldn't have to worry about her during his spontaneous conquest of Sebastian Smythe. He headed back to the dance floor, turning on his game.

* * *

><p>"You have to be very, very quiet," Sam hissed, shoving his key into the door.<p>

"Quiet…?" An extremely intoxicated Sebastian laughed. "I can't be quiet during sex…"

Sam laughed and pushed open the door to the condo. "Get in quick," He shoved Sebastian into the foyer. "Don't see Kurt. If you see Kurt, you have to hide."

He followed Sebastian in and closed the door behind him. "My room is that way!" He said, pointing down the dark hallway. "We have to get to bed!"

"I don't want to go to bed," Sebastian slurred cutely, stumbling at Sam and running his hands down his chest. "I haven't fucked you yet."

"Oh!" Sam cackled. "Let's go to bed and _then_ you can fuck me."

"_I _can fuck _you?_" Sebastian's eyes widened. "What is that? What even is that?"

"What…?" Sam had no idea what he was saying. Sebastian held onto him as they continued to go down the hallway. "Sebastian, your feet are too loud."

"Your abs is too loud, tiger," Sebastian said, slapping his hand to Sam's stomach and tickling him.

"Stop…!" Sam flew away from Sebastian, running into the wall. Sebastian keeled over, laughing so hard that tears came out of his eyes. Sam laughed too, sliding down the wall.

"I don't wan to go to bed," Sebastian said evilly. He crawled at Sam, kissing him sloppily on the mouth. "God, you have too much mouth!"

Sam pulled Sebastian in closer, so that the slender boy was straddling him against the wall. Sebastian shoved his tongue into his mouth.

Then suddenly, the lights switched on. Instinctively, Sam shoved Sebastian off him. Sebastian just started laughing again. Sensitive to the light, he threw an arm over his eyes, and then rolled onto his stomach.

"Sam!" Kurt was standing at the end of the hallway, just outside his bedroom door. "What the hell! It's three in the morning!"

"We're allowed to be awake at three in the morning," Sam replied logically. "We were awake last night at three in the morning until _you_ fell asleep."

Kurt was ready to yell something back at him, but before he could, Sebastian lifted his head, a humongous smile on his face. "Hey! It's Kurt! Where's Blaine? I think Blaine should be here!"

Kurt must have thought he was dreaming. He blinked down at Sebastian, the rage slowly appearing on his face.

"Blaine!" He finally wailed, his voice shaking more than Sam had ever heard it shake before. Sam knew he was in trouble, but in his inebriated state was defenseless. "Honey you have to get out of bed right now!"

Kurt disappeared into his room again.

"Oh god, is there a fire?" He heard Blaine say faintly.

"Only the one in your pants…!" Sebastian screamed like a four-year-old.

Kurt appeared in the hall again, dragging his sleepy boyfriend by the arm. "Do you see that!" Kurt waved his finger at Sebastian. "Am I crazy? Is that really there?"

"Sam brought me home to have intercourse!" Sebastian admitted proudly, struggling to climb to his feet.

"Sebastian, shut _up_," Sam rolled his head back against the wall. It felt heavier than usual.

"What is he doing here?" Blaine finally had something to say.

"You need to leave. You need to get out of my house. You need to leave." Kurt massaged his eyelids, his words pouring out in an endless stream. "Get out. Get out of my house. Get out. Get out…"

"Kurt, stop it!" Sam snapped. "Sebastian is my friend! He actually _wants _me to like him!"

"What happened to Quinn?" Kurt asked. "She should be watching you!"

"She has her own friends!" Sam told him. "She made a friend named Josh. I made a friend named Sebastian."

"Hey, that's my name!" Sebastian laughed. He shook his head, somehow amazing himself with the connection. He looked back at the scowling couple. "Oh my god, Blaine, why are you so _beautiful_?" He whined, covering his face in his hands.

"Sam, get up," Kurt ordered. "I'll call a cab for Sebastian. Figure out where he's staying. I'd prefer not to speak directly to him."

"Sebastian, where are you staying?" Sam asked obediently.

"Here!" Sebastian cried out. "I'll never tell you! I don't want to go home."

"Sebastian, where are you staying?" Kurt repeated.

"South fucking Hampton, bitch!" Sebastian cackled. "You wanna pay for _that_ cab ride!"

Sam vaguely remembered Sebastian mentioning something about a place in the city, but he wasn't going to bring it up. Then maybe Kurt would win.

"Sebastian, go in my room," Sam told him. "Kurt, we'll be quiet. This is my house too. Let him stay."

Sebastian stumbled through the nearest open door. By luck, he had the right one.

"This has to be a nightmare," Blaine mumbled. "I'm going back to bed."

He shuffled back into Kurt's room. Sam was still against the wall. He wasn't sure how he was going to accomplish standing up.

"Sam…" Kurt came toward him, crouching down next to him. "Yes, this is your house too, but as your friend, I can't let you lose your virginity on some drunken night with a guy who tailors his Ralph Lauren khakis."

"Why?" Sam snapped back viciously. "Do you want me to save myself for you?"

Kurt just stared at Sam for an endless moment, his eyes filled with pain and resentment. Finally, he stood up, crossing his arms. "You're right. I can't control you. Go ahead."

A random burst of adrenaline allowed Sam to rise to his feet.

"Okay," He said, taking a confident breath. "I will."


	9. Chapter 9

**You might think I breezed through a certain scene, but I don't like writing...those scenes when the ship isn't an endgame one...**

* * *

><p>Sam sat at the kitchen table the next day, scrolling his Facebook news-feed on his laptop, and absentmindedly stirring cream into his fourth mug of coffee.<p>

He heard the front door open, and looked up, waiting for whomever it was to show their face.

Quinn slowly appeared in the room, a bashful smile on her face. "Good morning."

"Morning was over an hour ago," Sam teased.

"Josh and I…" She was blushing, staring down at the floor as she ran a bare toe over the lines of the tile. She was carrying her heels from the night before in her hand, and Sam wondered how long it had been since she'd actually had them on. "…we did brunch."

Sam shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know a lot about one-night stands, but I've heard you're not supposed to be there when the guy wakes up."

At least that was the impression he got when he woke up at nine that morning to find no trace of Sebastian anywhere. Not that he was even sure that their interaction could be considered a "one-night stand". Sebastian had been so drunk, that he actually passed out on Sam's bed while attempting to jack him off. Sam had been too drunk to care, and was asleep only moments later.

"I didn't sleep with him," Quinn admitted, finding it impossible to stop smiling. "We went to this great little Greek restaurant, then we walked around for another hour, and then he told me he was staying in this hotel right up the street. I told him I didn't think it was a good idea if I went back with him, and he told me he'd sleep on the couch, but he couldn't bear the thought of saying goodnight to me."

"Are you sure that wasn't just a line?" Sam asked suspiciously.

"That's the best part!" Quinn was absolutely giddy. She pulled out the chair next to Sam's and lowered herself into it. "He was a perfect gentleman. You know…he's just perfect. Sam. He lives in _Hartford_."

Sam finally understood that Josh was kind of a big deal. "Whoa…Hartford…?"

"I looked it up on my phone," Quinn nodded, beside herself. "It's less than an hour from New Haven, but somehow, we met in New York. He had a meeting downtown yesterday, and decided to hit the town with a college buddy at night."

Sam realized he'd never seen Quinn so happy. "That's really amazing, Quinn. I'm happy for you."

"And how was your night?" Quinn asked, tired of talking about herself.

Sam took a deep breath. He couldn't quite think of words to use to describe the train wreck. "It was an adventure."

Quinn raised her eyebrows, intrigued. "Did things end well with Sebastian?"

"If by 'well' you mean, were we drunk enough?" Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm not even sure how much I spent on booze last night. That club needs to make those 'under 21' stamps they put on our hands harder to wash off. By the end of the night, we were too wasted to function."

Quinn sighed, reaching over and giving Sam's hand an affectionate squeeze. "Maybe he'll still call you." Quinn offered.

"I'm not sure that would be so much of a good thing," Sam admitted. "Like you said, out of all the men in New York, I had to bump into the guy Kurt hates the most. If fate is in any way involved, I think its testing me."

"…Or maybe god just wants you to get laid," Quinn shrugged crudely.

Sam bit his lip, wondering if he should hold in what he was going to say next. Then, he realized there was no reason. "Quinn, do you know I'm a virgin?"

Quinn's eyes widened, but she soon realized she wasn't surprised. "I mean, you did _just_ come out."

"I mean, I've never done anything with a girl either," Sam blushed.

"Gold star gay…!" Quinn cried. "I mean, that makes a lot of sense. Who would you have done it with?"

"Stop it," Sam chuckled. "I'm not gold star anything. I don't even consider myself gay."

"Sam, do you have _any_ desire to motor-boat me?" Quinn asked bluntly.

The confused and horrified expression on Sam's face answered the question for him.

"You're gay." Quinn broke it to him lightly.

"But I don't _feel_ gay," Sam told her uneasily. "I mean, I always thought I'd feel different. Sure, I like guys, but what does that even mean?"

Quinn blinked, having trouble accepting that the conversation was still happening. "It means that you're gay," She said flatly.

Sam breathed deeply. He let it sink in. "Okay…" He said, the volume of his voice slowly rising. "Yeah… I'm gay."

"That's the spirit," Quinn giggled, clapping her hands for him. "Say it louder."

"I'm gay!" Sam cried, throwing his head back and shouting it to the ceiling.

"Not that loud. You have neighbors." Quinn said sweetly, patting him on the arm.

The two of them exploded in a fit of giggles. Suddenly, Blaine cautiously appeared in the kitchen, blinking disgustedly at Sam as he made his way to the fridge.

"Do you have a problem?" Quinn asked playfully. "Sam was just letting off some steam."

Blaine widened his eye, fortunately holding his tongue as he grabbed a can of Coke Zero from the fridge and popped it open. "Are you guys going to be around tonight?" He asked them solemnly, taking a sip of the pop.

"Actually," Quinn looked back at Sam. "Would you be all right if I saw Josh again tonight? He's going back to Connecticut in the morning, and I'd really like to spend more time with him."

Sam shrugged. Sure, it sucked that Quinn was running around with some other guy when she'd come to New York to see him, but in the end, he didn't want to interfere with fate. "Yeah, that's cool."

"Sam, are you going to be here?" Blaine asked coldly; urgently.

Sam felt pressured. "I mean, yeah, I was probably just going to hang around. I'm still pretty tired from…I mean…" Sam caught himself, realizing how stupid it would be to bring up the previous night. Blaine knew where he was going, though, and wouldn't let the subject pass.

"What is Sebastian even doing here anyway?" Blaine asked. It struck Sam as weird that Blaine didn't sound cold or angry anymore; just curious. "I mean, he mentioned his parents' place in long Island once but I had no idea that he'd be there this summer. And how did you manage to get him to come back here with you?"

"Wait…" Quinn looked between Sam and Blaine, trying to put some pieces together. "You didn't tell me that he came home with you!"

"Nothing happened," Sam mumbled in his own defense. "We were too drunk. We fell asleep."

"Oh…" Blaine said. "Oh…that's surprising."

Maybe it was just Sam's imagination, but Blaine seemed weirdly relieved by the fact that he and Sebastian hadn't slept together. Quinn narrowed her eyes and looked back at Sam with an expression that said she sensed it too.

"Well anyway…" Blaine finally broke the awkward silence, trying to sound as casual as possible. "Sam, Kurt and I are making dinner for some ladies from our pottery class tonight. I mean, I think Kurt would want me to tell you that you're welcome to come."

"Blaine, are you inviting Sam to his own house?" Quinn asked weirdly. Sam suppressed a smile. He loved having Quinn around. She wasn't afraid to step on Blaine's toes, because it didn't matter to her if she pissed Kurt off in the process. She was the perfect buffer for Sam.

Blaine let out a breath of frustration. "No…" He shook his head defensively, completely flustered. "I'm just saying that we'll have plenty of food…"

"Well, like I said," Sam shrugged. "I'll be around."

"Okay then…" Blaine nodded thoughtfully. He inched towards the doorway, and then stopped in his tracks. "You know, Sebastian's done some stupid things, but I've forgiven him for them. He's not that bad of a guy, and I think it's great that you met someone, Sam."

Quinn and Sam exchanged disbelieving glances and Blaine left the room.

"Well, that was oddly supportive of him," Quinn said.

"He doesn't care if the guy almost blinded him," Sam sighed. "He just wants me away from Kurt."

* * *

><p>"I'll tell you, I'd much rather hire someone who fears my authority…" One of Kurt's lady friends wailed, her goblet of white wine sloshing around as she gestured. "…than someone who's going to practice their Mexican voodoo on my child every time she has the sniffles."<p>

Sam's face was scrunched up. He felt very concerned, at that moment, for the entire human race. There were six women at the table. All of them were in their late thirties, had leathery skin from tanning too much, and wore giant diamonds that Sam swore were the size of Ring-Pops. Kurt had always watched a lot of _Bravo_, but Sam never imagined he'd bring the "Real Housewives" home with him.

"I just don't trust those young girls," A blond in an A-line skirt that was hemmed way higher than age appropriate chimed in. "They don't have any experience."

"If I ever hired a nanny, I'd want it to be someone similar to me," Sam's ears perked up, involuntarily excited to hear Kurt voice his opinion on the matter. He looked up from him chicken pesto. "You know…someone I'd marry if I was marrying a girl. I'd want to fill that void my kid would have from not having a mother."

Sam's heart swelled. He couldn't deal with thinking about how much Kurt would love his children.

The moment was destroyed, however, by a dramatic cackle coming from down the table. He looked over to see a busty redhead patting the shoulder of a pale-faced Blaine. "Well, Kurt, it looks like you're scaring your man with all this baby talk."

Blaine forced a chuckle, shaking his head embarrassedly.

"Don't worry, Blaine, it's not like I'm going to join a pregnancy pact," Kurt told him playfully.

The women went wild with laughter. It was this awful continuation of noise. It was shrill; like every one of the women was trying to laugh louder than the woman next to her. Sam shoved a bit of chicken in his mouth, discomforted by the entire situation. He was horrified not only by the characters Kurt and Blaine had gotten themselves mixed up with, but also by the sudden thought of Kurt spending the rest of his life with anyone else but him.

The chicken suddenly felt dry in his throat, and he had to wash it down with a dangerously large gulp of wine. Once it was down, he realized just how little desire he had in hearing the rest of the conversation. He couldn't… really just _could not_ be present if Kurt and Blaine started talking about actual plans.

He stood up quickly. "It was really nice to meet everyone, but I have to go," The words poured out of his mouth. Everyone just sort of stared at him with blank expressions. He wondered if anyone had actually realized that he was still there.

"Where are you going?" Kurt finally asked. "We still have dessert."

"I have to meet a friend," Sam lied.

Kurt pursed his lips, assuming exactly what Sam hoped he would assume. "Oh. Go then. You don't want to keep him waiting."

Sam nodded gratefully and grabbed his plate. "I might be out late, so don't wait up."

Blaine decided that it was an appropriate place to jump in. "He never does,"

* * *

><p>"I'm going to do something I never do,"<p>

"What…?" Sam asked softly.

Sebastian blew a ring of smoke, and then rolled over to set his Cuban cigar in the ashtray on his night stand. He rolled back to face Sam again, draping his arm across Sam's torso.

"I'm going to compliment you," Sebastian winked. Sam laughed. "You are…in the best shape out of any of the guys I've ever had my way with."

Sam smiled and grabbed Sebastian's hand. He leaned over and kissed the slender boy hard on the mouth.

He felt used. He felt objectified. At the same time, he felt empowered. He'd come over to Sebastian's Dad's studio with the full intention of feeling that way; the intention of finishing what they had started the night before. As wrong as he knew it was, there was an odd satisfaction in knowing he'd achieved his goal. He could do it. He could get a guy into bed. He didn't have to completely devote himself to Kurt. That was pathetic.

"Thank you," He said sweetly, caressing the side of Sebastian's face.

"For the record, though," Sebastian included, not wanting to completely surrender all of his power. "The way you screwed me screamed 'virgin'. Have you been holding out for Hummel all this time?"

Sam shrugged. He refused to give Sebastian the satisfaction of knowing exactly what he'd taken from him. "It doesn't matter anymore."

Sebastian nodded slowly; resting his head on Sam's chest as Sam took him in his arms. "It's still early." He told him. "I was going to hit up some clubs tonight. Do you want to come?"

"Are you going back to _Liza's…?"_ Sam asked.

Sebastian let out a single syllable of laughter. "No…Anywhere but Liza's. After the state we left in last night, I think the bouncers are catching on to how easy those stamps are to scrub off in the bathroom. I'm afraid they'll try to brand us if we go back."

Sam laughed out loud. "I was actually just talking to Quinn about that."

Sebastian nodded against him. "I'll make some calls," He told him. "I know some girls who were hitting the town tonight; a couple of sisters. They love to party with gays."

As much as Sam hated the idea of being an accessory, he felt like it would be a dick move to blow Sebastian off after what had just happened. "Yeah, we could do that."

And so, twenty minutes later Sam was standing outside of a place called _Majority_. Unfortunately, the club didn't accommodate the budget of the average New York clubber, as the name misled. The cover charge was fifty bucks a head.

"It's less if you know the right people," Sebastian said to Sam, reaching for his wallet.

"Hey, I got you," Sam jumped in, waving for Sebastian to put it away. It was the least he could do. It's not like money was a problem for him.

"A gentleman…" Sebastian grinned as Sam forked over a hundred dollar bill. The bounced didn't even card them before presenting them with a pair of neon-green wrist bands. "I think I just might keep you."

They went through the doors. The music inside was the typical dance-mixes of Top-40 hits. The space was basically a big, ovular dance floor lined with secluded booth, decked out with tacky velvet cushions. Sam suppressed a smile as he remembered shopping for apartment furniture with Kurt. "I've made the mistake before…" Kurt had told him. "The truth is, velvet is always a mistake."

"Over here…" Sebastian said suddenly, lacing his fingers through Sam's as he dragged him toward a nearby booth. He'd never held Sam's hand before, and Sam didn't know what to make of it.

"Girls…" Sebastian addressed the two sleek-haired brunettes in nearly identical sequined tops. "I want you to meet Sam Evans."

Sam gave an awkward wave as Sebastian slid into the booth next to the homelier of the sisters. Sam sat across from him, and noticed that the girls were staring at him, their faces free of any readable expression.

"Sam, this is Lara," He pointed to the girl next to him. "And Lydia…"

"We were in kindergarten together," Lara told Sam. "Saint Cecilia's…before Seb got kicked out."

"It was ruthless discrimination," Sebastian threw his hands in the air, swearing to his claim.

"He couldn't keep his clothes on," Lara insisted. "And he was too obsessed with Shania Twain for his own good."

"What was life before Ritalin?" Sebastian sighed. "Am I right?"

"There he was, six years old," Lara went on. She really wanted to be sure she painted a picture. "He knew all the words to _'I feel like a woman'_, and he needed everyone else to understand that. We all knew he'd be a performer some days…"

"I still think they expelled me for being gay," Sebastian told the girls bitterly.

"Impossible," Lara gave him a light shove. "You didn't come out until _fourth _grade, and you weren't that flamboyant to begin with. Just...eccentric."

"Whoa…" Sam actually spoke. "…Fourth grade…? That's insane."

"I didn't know it was anything out of the ordinary," Sebastian chuckled. "I regret nothing. Sure, there were still some assholes, but I always managed to hold my own. Besides, I was in Sweden already at that point. We were in a pretty progressive community."

"Sweden…?" Sam could barely keep up.

"Sweden…France…" Lydia spoke for the first time, rolling her eyes. Sam took a good look at her and realized that she couldn't be older than fifteen. "He's lived everywhere."

"But he always manages to make it home for the summer," Lara gave Sebastian's arm an affectionate squeeze.

Sam thought it was cool to see Sebastian interacting so pleasantly; so familiarly with another human being. For the first time, Sebastian was more than just a dangerous seducer. He actually seemed kind of likable. Sam kind of wished he'd realized this before he'd slept with him.

"And for our favorite gay…" Lydia jumped in again. She grabbed a snake-skin clutch from beside her and popped open the clasp. "…we have a very special present."

Sam watched with curiosity. His face fell when the young girl extracted a small baggie filled with white powder.

"Whoa…" He said again. He was barely able to process what he was seeing. He's never actually been in the presence of drugs before. Well…not that he was consciously aware of. He was sure Puckerman had smuggled them into the locker room several times without him knowing. He felt a surge of adrenaline, terrified that the NYPD would pop out of some crevices at any moment.

Sebastian regarded the party favor differently, reaching eagerly for it, a sly smile on his face. "Is this quality?"

"I should hope so," Lydia crossed her arms confidently and leaned back. "There's more where that came from, but I'd have to make you pay."

Sebastian looked to Sam, "How are you feeling, Mr. Money bags? Do you want to try something new?"

"No." Sam didn't even have to think about it. "…Not interested…"

Sebastian shrugged widened his eyes at the baggie in his hand, failing to contain his enthusiasm. "Fine, be boring. _I'm_ going to have some fun tonight."

Sam bit his lip. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be completely sober for this. "I need a drink," He told the girls. "Do you guys want drinks? They're on me."

"Ooh, I like him," Lara chuckled. "You should keep him, Seb,"

Sebastian was already pulling his credit card out of his wallet to make lines in the powder. "Maybe I will…"


	10. Chapter 10

**Here we go. We're getting into the double-digit chapters. Eep! I have NEVER written a fanfic this long before. Even ones with more chapters have had less words. Your praise and encouragement is GREAT motivation and I'm so appreciative of everyone who's taking the time out of their busy lives to actually read this. **

* * *

><p>Sam lifted himself up slowly, heavily convinced that he had died and gone to hell. He heard his own pulse, and the full-body pain increased with every beat of his heart. His stomach flipped and he tried his best to breath through his nose so he wouldn't throw up on…what was he on?<p>

It took him a minute to take in the room. He had spent the night on some sort of lavish white rug. No. It definitely wasn't a good place to throw up. Around him was a series of grey leather sofas. Colorful abstract paintings hung on every wall, adding some vibrancy to what would otherwise be very dull décor.

"Sebastian…?" He tried to cry out, but all that escaped his lips was a hoarse croak. He swallowed saliva in an attempt to lubricate his vocal chords. "Sebastian…?" He was so confused.

"He's in the kitchen…" A voice said from behind him. His eyes darted to the source. A freshly-showered Lydia came in through the room's doorway, wringing her hair out with a towel.

"Is this your house?" Sam asked her, knowing that he should have just assumed.

"This is our _penthouse_," She nodded, smirking. "I bet you have one of them too, don't you?"

"No…" Sam wondered if he should stand up but he quickly realized he wasn't able to.

"I'm surprised you and Seb didn't tell us sooner…you know, about your situation." Lydia chuckled. "You're lucky Lara and I know how to mug for a camera. We got a lot of attention last night for partying with a celebrity."

The previous night was a blur. What was she saying about cameras?

"Wake up, Goldilocks…" Sebastian's voice appeared. Sam couldn't even bring himself to open his eyes to look at him. "You really need to learn how to handle your liquor, caddy."

He felt Sebastian's toe poke him in the ribs and he let out a grunt of annoyance.

"Sam, get up. I'm about to dump my espresso on your face."

Sam grunted again.

"Seriously, there's a _fantastic_ shit storm occurring at the moment that I'd never forgive myself if I let you miss."

"What are you talking about?" Sam groaned.

"It's this little thing called the internet…you're all over it."

Sam sat up again, glaring at Sebastian, who was coolly lowering himself onto one of the couches, a dainty tea cup in one hand and a closed Mac-book under his arm. Sam got to his feet and went over to Sebastian, who held the computer out to him, a wild grin spreading on his face. Sam took it across the room to a free seat and opened it to find several windows already open; all presenting him with the previous night's events; things he had no recollection of.

"Oh my god…" He swallowed, coming face-to-face with a cheap snap-shot of him and Sebastian making out and grinding up against the wall outside the men's room at _Majority._ He saw a picture of himself double-fisting two shots of tequila, his hair messed up and his pants unbuttoned. He wasn't even going to try to read the captions or headlines. The pictures told him enough.

"Oh god…" He leaned forward and put the computer on the coffee table. His face was burning up. "Kurt's going to kill me."

"_Kill? _No, no…Kurt Hummel doesn't believe in violence," Sebastian chuckled condescendingly. "He'll probably settle for silently judging you for the rest of your life."

Sam's nostrils flared, and he wondered what would happen if he punched Sebastian. He wasn't sure where the urge was coming from. It's not like Sebastian had forced him to drink as much as he did. For some reason, he still found himself blaming him.

"I have to go," Sam said urgently. He patted his pockets and was glad to find that his wallet and keys were still on his person. No one had bothered to remove his shoes the night before either. "I'm gunna go…" He nodded. It was the only action he was interested in.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "You could at the very least stay and chat with me while I finish my coffee," He told him.

Sam just shook his head. All he could think was that he needed to get home. He needed to shower. He needed to make sure Kurt didn't go on the computer. He tore from the room, and fortunately found his way to the elevator. As he rode down to the lobby, he realized that he could really care less about the fact that the media had informed the entire country about his inebriation. The idea of Kurt finding a picture of him and Sebastian kissing killed him, though. Kurt would have solid evidence; material reasons to judge him.

* * *

><p>"I don't see what the big deal is!" Blaine was yelling when Sam entered the apartment. He was careful not to make noise as he closed the door.<p>

"You're being an idiot!" Kurt yelled back. It sounded like they were in the kitchen. Sam eavesdropped shamelessly as he stumbled to remove his shoes. "Why would you even consider that?"

"You told me you wanted to be with me forever!" Blaine cried. "Excuse me for thinking that actually meant we'd be together."

"Forever is a long time, Blaine," Kurt snapped. Sam lowered himself onto the bench they'd put in the foyer, unable to stand any longer. "Even if we were to beat all the odds and not break up, there'd be plenty of time to live together _after_ you graduated."

"I'm not saying I wouldn't graduate!" Blaine reasoned. "I would get my GED!"

"You deserve a senior year!"

"_Your _senior year was basically mine! There's nothing for me at McKinley anymore now that you're gone."

"Then find something!" Kurt sounded completely exasperated. "I never wanted to be your entire life, Blaine. You were never mine."

"Is that why you picked New York…?" Sam could hear that Blaine was near tears. "…to get away from me?"

"You know that's not it! The plan was always for you to come out here too!"

"Of course it was," Blaine scoffed. "_After _I graduated…"

"It's really that simple!" Kurt almost laughed.

"No." Blaine wouldn't accept it. "You don't want me here. You left me the second you could to be with Sam."

"If it had been Rachel you'd be fine with it!" Kurt accused.

"But it's not Rachel. And it's not just _some guy_ and it's not just your best friend. It's…him..." Blaine's tone darkened. "I want you to tell me how many times you've slept with him."

Kurt laughed out loud. "I told you! I didn't even know he was into guys until recently!"

"How do I know you're not lying? How do I know that you don't think that you can get away with having both of us?" Blaine raised his voice again. "How do I know that you don't think that I'm some complete idiot who will believe everything you say?"

"Oh my _god_… You are an idiot! You're being so fucking stupid that it's literally causing me pain. There's nothing left to say, Blaine. I've told you everything there is to know. If you don't trust me, that's your problem."

Sam was surprised to hear that Blaine was without a retort. Silence wafted from the kitchen. Finally, Blaine spoke again.

"Kurt…I have given you everything I have," Blaine said quietly. "I get so paranoid. It kills me to think you would ever stray because I have loved you so completely. I don't even know who I am without you."

"I know who you are." Kurt said frankly. "You're a naïve seventeen-year-old who's read too many Nicholas Sparks novels. I love you, and I will keep trying to make this work, but I'm not going to let you make sacrifices for me because I'm realistic. If we don't know who we are apart, then we're just fractions of people. We can never be our real selves. Blaine, there is so much more to life – and even to relationships – than this petty romance."

"…Petty…?" Blaine's voice cracked.

Kurt hesitated. "There hasn't been anything real about it in a long time… at least not for me."

"So what do we do?" Blaine asked.

"Living together is killing us. We're not ready. " Kurt told him. "I want you to go home for a few weeks. Spend some time with Nick and Jeff. Have dinner with your parents every night. Read a book, or…I don't know… watch ESPN. I'll still call you every night and we can talk each other to sleep like we used to."

"And we can do our nightly skin-care sessions..." Blaine said, trying to lighten himself up.

"Of course," Kurt said gently. "I _will_ miss you, Blaine, but we both need time to think."

There was another silence. By this point, Sam was leaning back on the wall, his eyes closed, relieved by the idea that tonight, Blaine would be gone.

* * *

><p>Sam went down for a nap, after feeding himself a PB&amp;J, and after Kurt and Blaine retreated to their room to pack up Blaine's stuff. It was about four in the afternoon when Sam woke up to the sound of Quinn singing <em>"I feel love"<em> in the hallway as she passed his room. He thought about going out and greeting her, but he realized just how comfortable he was under his blankets.

"Quinn!" He shouted. "Come here!"

Her singing stopped abruptly, and he heard her footsteps approaching his door. She opened the door slowly. "Well, I'm thankful to see that you're actually alive."

"How was your night?"

Quinn smiled smugly, coming over and lowering herself on the end of his bed. "It was great. We had Moroccan food. He took me to see Swan Lake."

"Swan Lake…?" Sam lifted his eyebrows. "That's pretty fancy for a second date. How loaded is this guy?"

Quinn chucked and gave Sam's bare foot a playful squeeze. "Still not as rich as you. Don't worry."

"I'm not worried…" Sam said. "I'm glad you found a guy that likes to pamper you. You deserve it."

Quinn made a face. Somehow, she could sense that something was bothering him.

"What's going on?"

"Did they tell you that Blaine's leaving?" Sam asked her.

She raised her eyebrows, intrigued. "Like…leaving how?"

"I guess it's temporary," Sam sighed. "It's not a break-up, but I think Blaine expected to live here for good and Kurt kind of freaked out about it."

"Well, what about school?" Quinn asked.

"I don't know. He didn't want to do it."

"Oh, I see how it goes," Quinn rolled her eyes. "He doesn't think that he needs to do anything ever again now that he has a sugar daddy. Seriously…? Remember when he picked a fight with you before Sectionals because you wanted to be sexy for the judges? He said he wasn't for sale, but now he's practically a gigolo. Funny how these things work out."

Sam laughed. "Stop it. That's mean."

"Blaine's mean! He's never once been nice to you!"

"Kurt loves him…" Sam sighed, finally sitting up. "I have to be nice for Kurt's sake."

"You're a saint, Evans," Quinn told him.

Suddenly there was another knock on the door.

"Come in!" Quinn cried. "It's a party!"

Kurt entered a scowl on his face. "Samuel, I was just on the phone with Abby. Apparently you had quite the time with some under-aged socialites last night."

Sam had really hoped that this stuff with Blaine would buy him some time. "…shit…"

"I'll leave you two alone," Quinn said pleasantly, sliding off the bed and scurrying out the door. Kurt closed it behind her and flicked Sam's lights on.

"So are you and Sebastian going to make a nightly habit out of getting drunk off your asses?"

"You never had a problem with me drinking," Sam shrugged, playing it cool so that maybe Kurt would too. "And I don't care what the tabloids say about me."

"Sam, don't you want to go to college? Don't you want to get a job some day?"

"I'm not worried about making money, Kurt." It was true. Sam had thought about it. They had won one of the largest jackpots the Ohio Lottery offered. He could support himself comfortably for the rest of his life without ever lifting a finger. It felt great.

"So you don't want anything out of life now that you have money?" Kurt was disgusted. "Are you kidding me?"

"I'm not!" Sam insisted passionately. "I am perfectly content with watching nineties sitcoms all day and just, like, going for long walks if I get bored of the walls of our apartment."

"How can you be content with that…?" Kurt asked, frustrated. "It's just…surviving. Don't you want to do something productive!"

Sam shook his head, chuckling a bit to himself. "You don't get it. I hated high school. I had to work twice as hard to keep up in my classes. The work wasn't worth it, and I didn't care because at the end of the day I could still...cheer Quinn up with my impressions, Finn would still be waiting for me at home with an Xbox controller, and you…I had you. I have no idea why but you let me care about you, and you care about me too, and I really believe that we make each other's lives better. So, what's more productive than that?"

Kurt frowned at Sam, actually looking angry. Sam realized that everything he was saying might be too close to Blaine's feeling that all he needed was Kurt. Kurt shook his head. "You're going to get really bored of _Fresh Prince_."

"Then I'll start watching _Saved by the Bell," _Sam shrugged simply.

"Nice." Kurt sighed. "I hope you and Screech are very happy together."

Kurt was done. He slowly turned around and left the room. Sam lay back down once Kurt was gone; a weight in his stomach telling him that everything he'd just said was a lie. He'd been honest in the sense that all he really wanted to do was better the lives of the people he cared about, but dishonest in the fact that he thought caring about Kurt was productive. If that was the case, he wouldn't feel so empty every time Kurt walked away from him.

Sam sat up again. He didn't want to sit in the apartment anymore; he needed to do something to relieve the pressure in his chest. He needed to do something that would make himself feel better.

He quickly got out of bed and walked over to the dresser in his T-shirt and boxers. He quickly jumped into a pair of Jeans and exploded into the hallway, rushing across the hall to the guest room. He started knocking on the door incessantly.

"Oh my god…! What…?" Quinn laughed, pulling open the door.

"We have to go," Sam told her. "Right now... Put your shoes on and leave your wallet behind."

"What?" She asked frantically.

"Don't ask questions, Fabray," Sam snapped, grinning playfully. "Just follow my instructions and remember I'm giving you free room and board."

"Oh my god…fine."

* * *

><p>A cab ride later, they were stepping out onto the sidewalk in front of <em>Tiffany's.<em>

"I'm going to buy you whatever you want," He told her urgently. "I'm serious. If you see an engagement ring you just have to have, I'll propose to you on the spot."

Quinn cackled. "Sam, this is ridiculous! I can't accept jewelry from you."

"Well, then, who can you accept it from?" Sam asked. "…Your parents? …Josh? Quinn, you mean so much to me. I want to pamper you too."

Quinn hesitated for a moment, evaluating how serious Sam was. Seconds later, she got it. "Well…I guess I have always wanted a real string of pearls."

"Well then," Sam told her, holding out his arm for her to take hold of. "Pearls you shall have."


	11. Chapter 11

**sooooooooo...yeah...teehee. Thanks for reading. The usual. Here are words and such. **

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><p>"Rise and shine…" The overpowering smell of coffee filled Sam's nostrils as he transitioned into consciousness.<p>

"What are you doing?" Sam mumbled, pulling his covers over his head.

Kurt sighed heavily. "Look, as much as I don't like fighting with you, I also don't like admitting I'm wrong."

"Oh?" Sam said from under his comforter.

"That's why I'm making a civil request that you get out of bed at a reasonable hour, and come outside, and see what the world has to offer. Blaine's spot in out Pottery class needs to be filled."

Sam frowned, finally pulling his covers down to glare at Kurt. "Not a chance."

"Jesus, Sam, I'll buy you the entire series of _Fresh Prince _on Blue Ray!"

"I don't actually care about that!" Sam shook his head. "Really, I just refuse to hang out with your…lady friends."

"We'll have our own conversations, Sam," Kurt promised, setting the coffee on the nightstand. "You really need to do this. I'm worried about you."

"You don't have to worry," Sam told him. "Ask Quinn. She and I went out last night."

"She told me you bought her a string of pearls and a coach purse and then ate at Burger King."

"And what's wrong with that?"

"I want you to see that you can do more with your money than drink and shop." Kurt said. "I want you to find something to wake up for that doesn't come with a laugh track…or isn't Sebastian's penis."

"And you think pottery's my calling?" Sam asked cynically.

"Sam, you love _color-me-mine_ more than anyone I'd ever met."

That was true. And really, he'd do anything at that point to shut Kurt up. "Fine…"

* * *

><p>The studio wasn't what Sam expected. He expected a big open space with glaze-stained, concrete walls and dim lighting. Instead, he walked into a Zen room with crystal chandeliers and iridescent blue tiled walls. He felt like he was in the bathroom of a 5 star restaurant. Instead of toilets, there were pottery wheels.<p>

The women from Kurt's dinner party, and then some, were taking their seats at a set of tables at the far end of the room.

"What's this?" The busty redhead shuffled over to them in her weird platform shoes that seemed to be made of cork. "Where's Blaine?"

"Don't worry, Chloe," Kurt said, forcing a smile. "He's just spending some time in Ohio with his parents."

Chloe pursed her lips, eyeing Sam suspiciously.

"It's all right if Sam takes his place for today, isn't it?"

She shrugged. "Yes, I guess so. We're glazing today, so he'll have to do Blaine's vase."

"We'll he be okay with that?" Sam asked, feeling weird about touching someone else's art work, even if it was just Blaine's.

"He's going to have to be." Kurt said shortly. He absentmindedly grabbed Sam's hand and started pulling him toward a set of shelves that held all of the works-in-progress. Their palm-to-palm contact turned a few heads. Self-conscious, and more afraid of the housewives than ever, Sam yanked his hand away. Kurt didn't seem to notice.

"Take this…" He said, pulling a slender, asymmetrical vase from the shelf and turning to hand it to Sam. Sam took it in his hands and examined it. He didn't know a lot about making pottery, but he could tell that Blaine wasn't very good at it. Kurt removed his own creation, a wide and shallow serving bowl, from the shelf. It was much better. Sam was actually kind of proud of him. When Kurt Hummel did something, he did it right.

"That's great, Kurt." Sam told him.

"Please," Kurt sighed lightly, "It's barely anything at all."

Kurt led Sam to the tables in the back, where they sat with a pair of Blonds that were too involved in their own conversation to even acknowledge the teenage boys. Kurt left to get glazes while Sam stayed and listened to the women talk, fascinated.

"You know, my sister just bought a condo in Fort Lauderdale, and we're thinking of taking the kids there for a few days." One of the women said casually, making lazy strokes on her mug with her paint brush. "Maybe when we go back to Disney in August we'll make it a two-in-one. Last year we did the whole week in Orlando and there's only so much to do before we got bored..."

"See, we've wanted to do Disney for a few years now," The other woman sighed regretfully. "But this year, with the time Arthur took off for Aspen and Spring Break in St. Lucia, he really can't get away again."

"You know…my friend took the kids with her mom. Her husband stayed behind. She said it was a great experience for them…"

"Really…? I wonder if my mom would enjoy that."

Sam bit his lip, wanting to laugh at how ridiculous it all was. He had never been to Disney World. The only vacations he'd been on as a kid were visits to his grandparents' farm and a two-hour drive to The Grand Ole Opry. These women acted like they could be considered failures as parents if they didn't take their kids to an overpriced theme park on a regular basis.

"I got some with speckles in it," Kurt told Sam, setting a jar of glaze on the table. "I figured we could paint ours to match."

"Yeah, that's cool," Sam smiled. He was still having trouble caring about the pottery, but his interest was heightened a small amount by Kurt's own level of enthusiasm. Kurt sat down at the table, beaming down at his bowl. Sam adored the childish glow in his eyes.

Sam was so busy watching Kurt pick up his paintbrush and go at the pottery that he almost forgot to do the same. It wasn't until the busty redhead cleared her throat at the table next to theirs that he came out of his trance, realizing that she was keeping an eye on him. He picked up his own brush and got started on Blaine's hopeless monstrosity of a vase.

* * *

><p>"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Kurt asked Sam as they wandered slowly down the side walk after class. They had nowhere else to be, and had agreed to take their time getting home. The weather was perfect: eighty-six degrees and sunny. On another day, the six blocks to the condo might seem like too much. Today, it didn't seem like enough.<p>

"You actually enjoy it, don't you?" Sam asked him.

Kurt blushed. "Why else would I keep going?"

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, I don't know why I'm surprised. You were so cute in there. I'm glad I came with you."

Kurt laughed strangely. "But…did _you_ enjoy yourself?"

"I still don't think I'm going to build my life around pottery," Sam chuckled. "But I really do appreciate your attempt to get me out of my shell."

"Any time, Evans," Kurt smirked.

Sam took a deep breath. Even though the outside city air couldn't quite qualify as "fresh", it was something close, and it was a nice break from the smell of his sweaty socks and body spray which dominated his room at the condo.

"Those women were ridiculous," Sam said. He'd wanted to say it since they first sat down. "Like, I thought they were a little ridiculous at dinner that night, but now I see that they are _actually _ridiculous."

"Ridiculous? …how?" Kurt asked, clearly in disagreement.

"Did you hear them talking about Disney World?" Sam asked. "Their kids are probably so spoiled."

"Sam, stop," Kurt scolded.

"What?" Sam didn't even know what he was doing wrong.

"They love their kids," Kurt explained. "They can afford to do nice things for them. You're the same way. You bought Quinn that necklace. You paid off your parents' mortgage. I'm honestly surprised you haven't taken Stacy and Stevie to Disney already."

"I mean, if I did I'd want it to be special," Sam said honestly. "For those kids it's, like, an annual thing. They probably take it for granted. The parents don't understand that a trip like that is supposed to be a big deal."

"I guess I just feel like it's their prerogative," Kurt shrugged. "You know, once this whole thing with Blaine blows over I think I'm going to take him to Paris or something."

Sam kept on his poker face. "Oh…?"

"I don't know…" Kurt sighed. "Do you think it was wrong of me to send him home? I don't want him to think I have a problem with financially supporting him. When you really love someone you have to be okay with doing that. I just don't want him to sell himself short. He's more than that. _I'm _more than that."

"You don't want my opinion..." Sam assured him softly. He wanted to tell Kurt to get on the phone and tell Blaine to never come back. There was someone in New York that was so much better for him. He couldn't, though. Today was the first day since Sam came out where the weirdness between them was almost completely gone.

"I just don't know what to do," Kurt sighed. "Part of me dreads losing him for good, but the other part of me wants to see what else is out there. I just feel so awful about it all the time. The truth is, if we hadn't gotten all of this money; if I had moved out to New York anyway and if he didn't know I could afford to fly him out here and put him up…" Kurt paused and swallowed. "We probably would have broken up already. I wouldn't have had it in me to stay with him."

"So what's keeping you from breaking up now?" Sam finally asked. "Clearly you don't love him enough…"

Kurt interrupted. "You know I love him! Sam, he means so much to me. I mean, he was my first _everything_. He made high school so special..."

"But high school is over," Sam rationalized.

"Exactly," Kurt said sadly, the confliction showing in his face. Sam couldn't help but have a little sympathy for him. As hard as it was for him to see Kurt considering continuing to be with someone that wasn't him, it was even harder to see him in pain. Kurt collected himself, shaking his head and forcing a laugh. "I sent Blaine home so we could have some independence. Tonight, I should focus on having fun. We have loads of time to get serious."

"Totally,"

* * *

><p><em>"I DROVE ALL NIGHT TO GET TO YOU…IS THAT ALL RIGHT!" <em>Kurt sang along to Cyndi Lauper, dancing around the living room, swinging his hips to and fro. Sam sat on the couch, his mouth agape in amazement. He laughed uncontrollably, running his hand over his mouth and glancing at the handle of vodka that sat on the coffee table. The two of them had already gotten half of the way through it. Sam didn't know how much each of them was responsible for. It was around midnight, and Quinn had gone to bed an hour ago. Sam wasn't sure how she was sleeping through this.

_"I DROVE ALL NIGHT…SNUCK IN YOUR ROOM… WOKE YOU FROM YOUR SLEEP… TO MAKE LOVE TO YOU…" _ At the last part, Kurt started crossing over to Sam, his eyes dark and seductive, running his hands all over himself. Sam's jaw dropped, but he smiled hugely.

_"IS THAT ALL RIGHT?" _As Kurt got closer, Sam went on autopilot and reached out to Kurt, grabbing his hips and pulling him closer. Kurt burst out laughing and went limp, falling to the floor. He assumed the fetal position at Sam's feet.

"Are you happy?" Sam laughed, leaning over Kurt and rubbing his back. "Is this fun enough for you?"

Kurt popped up again, and he climbed onto the couch next to Sam. "Sam, we need to get your roots done. When was the last time you got did your roots?" He reached up and shoved his hand into Sam's hair.

"I don't dye nothing!" Sam asserted, smacking Kurt's hand away. "Don't judge me."

Kurt rested his head on Sam's shoulder. "I could never judge you, Sam. You're my Sam. Nothing could ever take that away from me."

Sam nuzzled his cheek against Kurt's head. "I know, Kurt. I love you."

"Oh no…" Kurt abruptly got to his feet and grabbed Sam's hand, powerfully pulling him along. "If you _really_ loved me, you'd be dancing."

The song changed to _"Girls Just Want to Have Fun". _ Kurt cackled as Sam played along and started moving to the rhythm.

_"I COME HOME IN THE MORNING LIGHT. MY MOTHER SAYS WHEN YOU GUNNA LIVE YOUR LIFE RIGHT…" _Kurt harmonized perfectly, taking a higher part than even Cyndi herself. _"OH MOTHER DEAR WE'RE NOT THE FORTUNATE ONES. OH GIRLS JUST WANT TO HAVE FU-UN. OOOH GIRLS JUST WANT TO HAVE FUN."_

"Dude, you're not a girl," Sam tried, still dancing.

"Go with it!" Kurt yelled over the music. "Sing with me."

Sam didn't know why he did it. It just sort of happened. He sang Cyndi's part. _"MY PHONE RINGS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT…" _He closed his eyes and got into it. _"MY FATHER SAYS WHAT YOU GUNNA DO WITH YOUR LIFE." _

Kurt let out an enchanted laugh and nodded coolly. _"OH DADDY DEAR YOU KNOW YOU'RE STILL NUMBER ONE. BUT GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FU-UN…OH GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN." _

Sam suddenly stopped singing. Kurt had started dancing dangerously close to him. Sam felt himself starting to sweat. He slowed down his dancing. Kurt's body heat was really too much for him. His thigh was lightly grazing Kurt's crotch, and that was enough to make him hard. Kurt lowered his hands onto Sam's shoulders.

"What's the matter?" He whispered much too innocently into Sam's ear.

Sam swallowed. He was feeling kind of dizzy. Somewhere deep inside him, there was the sober boy who remembered exactly how hard he had worked to keep himself from acting on his feelings for Kurt. He just needed to dig around a bit and force that boy back out.

Kurt suddenly pressed his body against Sam's, still moving to the music. Sam shuddered. It felt too good.

"Stop…" Sam backed away.

"Oh my god…!" Kurt's hand flew sloppily to his mouth. "Was that a _boner_?"

"Shut _up_!" Sam was terrified of waking Quinn up now.

"You have a _boner_ for me!" Kurt clapped.

"We're so drunk, Kurt," Sam tried. "We're really drunk..."

"Oh, like you care…" Kurt swatted the air. "Do you want me to fix it, please?"

"What…?" Sam was shocked to hear Kurt talking like that.

"I want to take care of it for you…" Kurt grinned wickedly, pointing to his mouth.

Sam laughed nervously, getting harder and harder by the minute. Kurt couldn't be serious. But what if he was?  
>"It's not cheating because it's not my penis."<p>

That reasoning was very good for drunken Sam. From there, Sam lost himself completely. He grabbed Kurt by the hand and ran him down the hall, shoving him into his room and closing the door behind them.

Kurt immediately reached down and undid the button to Sam's jeans. But something didn't feel right.

"Wait," Sam breathed heavily. "You need to kiss me first."

"What…?" Kurt laughed, as if it were the most ridiculous thing on the planet.

"Kiss me," Sam told him. "I just want you to kiss me. I need you…"

Kurt let go of him and backed away slightly. "I don't want to."

"You have to!" Sam told him. "It's the only way."

Kurt hesitated. He closed his eyes sleepily, moving toward the bed. "Sam…" He whined, having trouble coming up with any more words. Sam was too confused. Why was Kurt okay with blowing him but not kissing him?

"Why don't you love me?" Sam shouted at him, suddenly angry. "We'd be so good together!"

Kurt looked like he was about to cry. He stared at the carpet for a minute, and then looked back at Sam sadly. "You're making it too hard." He told him. "I don't know what to do."

"Just kiss me!" Sam demanded. "You don't even have to blow me anymore."

A tear ran down Kurt's cheek. His entire body was shaking. Sam just waited. He didn't know what else to do. Eventually, Kurt came back over to him. Sam ran a hand down Kurt's sleeve and slowly took his hand, lacing their fingers together. With his free hand, he brushed a new tear off of Kurt's cheek with his thumb. Kurt nodded, and at first Sam wasn't sure why.

Before he knew it, Kurt was kissing him tenderly. At first, their lips barely touched, but after a moment, Kurt's lips were pressed against his hard. Sam kissed back, his hand weaving through Kurt's hair. Their mouths opened in unison, their tongues lightly sliding across each other's. Sam pulled away for a minute, trying to figure out if he was awake or dreaming. Kurt wouldn't let it happen. He took Sam's torso in his arms and pulled Sam's entire body back toward him. Together, the two of them stumbled a few feet and fell onto the unmade bed.

"I love you, Kurt," Sam said, starting at the buttons of the other boy's shirt as Kurt hovered over him.

Kurt began to help him. "I love you too, Sam," He said.

And Sam was convinced, in that moment, that it was all he'd ever need to hear.


	12. Chapter 12

The room was dark and quiet. The blinds were closed, and the only sound was the hum of Sam's ceiling fan. He didn't even have to look over at Kurt sleeping next to him for the events of the night before to come back to him. He remembered them all immediately. It was almost as if he hadn't even been sleeping. It felt more like he had blinked.

He was afraid to move; afraid to breathe. He was convinced that the slightest movement would wake Kurt up. Sam knew in his gut that the second Kurt woke up the drama would start. He just wanted to hold onto the peace as long as he could.

Sam's mouth was a little dry, but he wasn't hung over. That plus his clear memory made him realize that he hadn't been as drunk the night before as he'd convinced himself he was. He felt a strong, overpowering guilt. He'd been caught up in the moment, more than anything. He'd completely taken advantage of Kurt.

Sam slowly got out of bed. He stepped over the various articles of clothing that littered the floor. His foot landed in something slimy, and he looked down to find his open bottle of lube spilling onto the carpet. Suddenly it was all too real. He'd gone all the way with Kurt last night, and it didn't feel anything like it was supposed to feel.

Sam pressed his lips together, wanting to cry, as he walked over to his dresser. He pulled open the top drawer and removed a fresh pair of boxers. He tried closing it again lightly, but the noise rang through the room like a gun shot.

Kurt stirred, and sat up quickly. He looked confused, glancing around the room, and realizing it wasn't his. "Oh my god…" He said, his voice shaking.

"Kurt, it's okay," Sam tried.

"What the hell happened last night?" Kurt croaked. He sounded like an 82-year-old who'd spent the entirety of their adulthood as a chain smoker.

"Nothing," Sam panicked. "We fell asleep."

Kurt squinted at him. "You're naked." He looked down at himself. "Fuck. I'm naked. Fuck."

Kurt jumped off the bed, pulling the sheet with him to keep himself covered.

"Kurt. We had a lot to drink last night." Sam reasoned.

Kurt's nostrils flared, and tears began to pool in his eyes. "Did we use a condom?" He shook his head, sure of the answer. "Fuck, Sam. Do you realize how much you've probably exposed me to? I mean, I don't even want to know what you could've gotten from Sebastian."

"It was your idea to hook up with me!" Sam told him bluntly.

"But you didn't wear a fucking condom!" Kurt screamed.

"Shut up!" Sam snapped. "You'll wake Quinn up. And is that really what you're worried about? It's not like I could've gotten you pregnant."

"You are such an idiot!" Kurt hissed. "Not only have I cheated on my boyfriend, but also, I'm going to get Chlamydia."

"Well, that's okay. We'll be in it together."

"Oh, go to hell, Sam." Kurt charged to the door, tugging it open and escaping into the hallway with Sam's sheet and none of his clothes.

* * *

><p>"Yes that's right…" Sam said into his phone, leaning back on the couch and closing his eyes. "I want it to be completely anonymous."<p>

Quinn came into the room, a cup of tea in either hand, and lowered herself onto the cushion next to him.

"Thank you," He said, as she set one of the mugs on a coaster on the coffee table. "Yes, have a great day."

"What was that about?" Quinn asked, blowing into her tea.

Sam lowered his phone and sighed. "I just donated two thousand dollars to a homeless shelter in Brooklyn."

"That was nice of you," Quinn smiled. "Look at you, sharing your good fortune."

"Well, I had to do something," Sam frowned, crossing his arms. "I feel like shit."

"Hm. Why's that?" Quinn asked.

Sam hesitated. "Did anything wake you up this morning?"

"No, I took a Tylenol PM last night. I was a log until, like, ten. Why? What would've woken me up?"

Sam sighed. "Kurt and I. We had a fight."

"Another one…?" Quinn asked helplessly. "What happened?"

"Well, we sort of slept together last night," Sam said, just as she was taking a sip of tea. She choked a bit.

"Sam!" She shouted.

"I know…" He said shamefully. "And now he's been gone all day. I don't know where he went."

"What happened? How did this happen?"

"Well, we had that handle…"

"Oh god… you were drunk?"

"A little bit."

"Oh no…"

"Yeah, and we had sex."

"You told me that," Quinn said shortly. "Give me details."

Sam was a bit uncomfortable. "Details…? Um…like…what we did?"

"Oh god, no… I could really survive the rest of my life without knowing which one of you tops."

"Oh god! Quinn!" Sam couldn't help but laugh.

"I'm sorry," Quinn was laughing too. "I'm not helping."

"We started grinding to Cyndi Lauper."

Quinn was disgusted. "Is that possible?"

"And he was just…killing me, Quinn. And he felt…you know…when I got hard. And then he offered me head. He just, like, offered it."

Quinn cackled. "Oh my god… Kurt Hummel the trollop!"

"He is not a trollop!" Sam cried. "If he is, I am too."

"You don't have a boyfriend," Quinn reasoned.

"I have Sebastian."

"…Sebastian who hasn't called you in days, who you've barely even thought about. You don't have a boyfriend."

Sam sighed. "Anyway, he didn't want to kiss me. I basically yelled at him because he wanted to go right ahead without kissing me. And he kissed me, and then…he started to go down on me, but then half way through he decided…that it wasn't enough. And then we just…did it."

Quinn's eyes were wide and sympathetic. "Oh god, Sam…"

Sam nodded. "I know. I don't know what I was thinking. He was smashed. I thought it would mean more, but now he's cheated on Blaine…and I'm the guy who swooped in the second the boyfriend was gone."

"I mean, you can't blame yourself. Kurt and Blaine are clearly having issues. You just stumbled into the middle of them."

"You see, that's what sucks," Sam told her, anger boiling up inside him. "I don't want to be in the middle of their issues. He means so much more to me than that."

Quinn reached out and grabbed his hand. "Have this discussion with Kurt. He has to come home eventually."

"What am I supposed to do?" Tears were pooling in Sam's eyes. "Am I just supposed to tell him how in love with him I am? He doesn't want to know."

"He slept with you, Sam!" Quinn snapped. "Whether it ever happens again or not, things are never going to be the same. You guys have to figure out what you're going to do. If you keep living like this, it's going to kill you."

Sam felt completely stuck. Part of him wanted to catch the next flight to Kentucky. He could be with his family. He could forget Kurt ever existed. However, the bigger part of him knew that Quinn was right.

"Are you going to be all right if you're alone in the apartment with him?" Quinn asked.

Sam suddenly felt panicked. "Alone? Where are you going?"

"I was going to go up to Hartford for the weekend. Josh invited me."

Sam groaned. "That sucks."

"I'll stay if you need me to,"

Sam shook his head. He didn't want to ruin any more lives this week. "No. Go. Maybe the isolation will be good for us."

"Yeah, maybe," She sighed. "Just text me, okay? If you need to talk, I'll have my phone on the entire time."

"Thanks Quinn. You really are the greatest."

* * *

><p>By the time five PM rolled around. Sam couldn't even function. He had sat himself down at the kitchen table, waiting.<p>

Kurt got home around five-thirty, and seemed surprised when he came in to find Sam sitting there.

"I want this to be a civil conversation," Sam told him. "I want you to sit down at the opposite end of this table and talk to me, and I want you to be completely honest."

Kurt hesitated for a moment, and then started moving toward his newly assigned seat. "I've been walking all day," Kurt told him, his voice shaking. "I've been thinking a lot."

"That's good," Sam told him, but he was terrified.

Kurt sat down slowly. "I remember it, Sam. I remember more of it than I'd like to admit. I was drunk but I couldn't forget something like that."

"I do too."

Kurt closed his eyes, trying to hold back his tears. "I felt so close to you. I've always felt closer to you than anyone, and last night it was like I was finally able to express it. I didn't know that there was something that could ever make me feel so... fulfilled. Is that stupid? "

Sam's chest tightened. He felt himself about to cry too. Kurt was basically reading his mind. He seemed to feel exactly how Sam felt. "I'm so in love with you," Sam heard himself choke out. He hadn't meant to. It just sort of happened.

Kurt tucked his chin to his chest, his tears overwhelming him. "I know, and I hate you for that," He said looking up, shaking his head. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me sooner?"

"You didn't want to know!" Sam shouted. "You had Blaine!"

"And I love him. It just feels different with him. I don't know. I'm a horrible person."

Sam wiped his nose on his arm. "That's not true."

"I am!" Kurt cried. "All day I've been trying to feel guilty! I've been trying to figure out a solution, but all I can think is that I don't want to do the right thing. I just want to get rid of him. I'm awful. I told him I was looking for a way to make it work, but all I can think about is how badly I want you. I want to be in your arms again. I…"

Impulsively, Sam rose from his chair. He quickly went over to Kurt, crouching down beside him and taking his hands. Kurt's entire body was shaking.

"I knew it the minute you came out to me," Kurt admitted quietly. "I just wish I had known sooner."

"It's all right," Sam reached up and pressed his palm to Kurt's wet cheek. Kurt leaned into his touch, closing his eyes. "You know now. It's okay."

Kurt leaned down, placing a light kiss on Sam's forehead. He ran a shaky hand over Sam's hair, then cradling the blonde's head in his hands, pressed one on the bridge of his nose. Sam's breathing deepened, as Kurt kissed his left cheek, just under his eye. Finally, he reached Sam's mouth, and Sam wasn't going to let him move from there.

* * *

><p>Sam had fallen asleep about five minutes after they finished, but as always, Kurt was having trouble sleeping. He rose from the bed about an hour later, completely naked, and started toward the door, which they had left completely open.<p>

He followed the trail of their clothing back to the kitchen, picking up each article as he came upon it. By the time he reached the kitchen, his arms were full.

He stood there at a loss, glancing from appliance to appliance, the bundle of clothes clutched tightly to his chest.

_"It could be like this every night…"_ Kurt told himself, thinking about the adventurous trek they had made from the kitchen to the bedroom. _"You could feel this amazing every night of your life if you lived alone with Sam."_

It was much easier than it should have been. He'd always told himself that the reason he couldn't visualize a future with Blaine was because he was too young to be making such a big commitment. Why was he so willing to make one to Sam? There really wasn't any way out, was there? He and Sam already lived together.

He went over to the table and dropped the clothes on top of it, lowering himself into the nearest chair. He thought about Blaine. Blaine was great, and Kurt really did love him, even if it was in a completely different way than he loved Sam.

But what way was the right way? What if he was copping out by choosing Sam? What if he was so scared of the future, that he was simply gravitating toward what was comfortable?

It was too late now, wasn't it? He'd just cheated on Blaine for the second time. Even if he did change his mind, there was no way he'd ever get away with it.

The confusion was too much for Kurt. He'd gotten in way over his head. At that point, all he could do was put his head down on the table, bury his face in his arms, and sob.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey...I know this said I updated twice...and I'm sorry for that. Some things happened where some edits had to happen for reasons I can't get into but may or may not have been that someone I know in real life accidentally became aware of my fan fiction account. **

**A/N – Sorry that it's been almost two months since I've updated! I stopped writing fanfiction for a while because of school, and when I came back to it I'd forgotten about most of my old ones. I really wanted to keep working on this one, though, even though most of you have probably forgotten it exists. I know this part is pretty short, but I just wanted to post what I had before I wrote the next section.**

**I know things are sort of slow and redundant at this point, but I promise they'll pick up again soon. **

* * *

><p>Kurt was going to break up with Blaine.<p>

He'd made the decision. Even if he didn't end up with Sam, it wasn't right to string Blaine along. He was going to do it that night; during their daily phone conversation. He had his whole speech planed: _"We just aren't in the right part of our lives"._

When the time came, however, Kurt couldn't do it. His phone began to ring, Blaine's name flashing on the caller ID, and in a panic, he ignored the call, then turned off his phone completely.

He tossed it onto the mattress and stared at it. What was he doing? Did he have no balls what so ever? A knock came on his door.

"Yeah…?" He called, his voice shaking.

"I'm ordering a pizza!" Quinn told him boredly. "Do you have any preference?"

"No." Kurt said quickly. "I'm good."

There was a brief pause. "Okay."

Kurt buried his face in his hands. He was a cheater. At first he was a drunk cheater, and now he was a cheater all around.

Another knock came.

"Hey, it's me, can I come in?" Sam asked without waiting for Kurt to answer.

Kurt hesitated. "I guess…"

Sam's face was strange as he entered. "You guess?" He repeated. There was confusion in his voice.

Kurt smiled weakly. "I meant of course you can come in. Come here. Come sit with me."

Kurt swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and Sam came and stood in front of him. Kurt grabbed at his hands and kissed his knuckles. Sam slowly lowered himself onto his knees so that he was at eye level with Kurt, but Kurt averted his gaze, his face fallen.

"Did I do something wrong?" Sam asked him. "Look, if you need more time..."

Kurt interrupted, shaking his head. "I don't want to hurt you anymore."

Sam leaned forward and lightly pressed his forehead against Kurt's. "You're not hurting me at all."

"But I'm hurting Blaine," Kurt nearly whispered.

Sam pulled away from him, frustrated. "You need more time to think about this, don't you?"

Kurt sighed heavily. "I feel like I have to be tricking myself!" He cried, standing up and crossing his arms uncomfortably. "Blaine and I were together for over a year, and all of a sudden I realize that there was something missing that I had with somebody else? What if I'm just looking for a way out? What if everything you and I have is just in my head."

Sam should have reacted to that. He should have been hurt by Kurt's doubts, but for some reason, he wouldn't let himself be. The things he had felt when he was with Kurt were too intense not to be mutual, and he was overcome by a combination of confidence and frustration. Finally, he exploded. "It's not in your head!" He cried insistently. "You would have realized it by now! You would have let it go and pushed me away. Honestly, if anything, you were lying to yourself by pretending like you didn't have feelings for me! For two years we both thought I was straight, and you thought you weren't allowed, so you buried them. But guess what? Shit changes!"

Kurt was stunned by Sam's outburst. "This isn't like you."

"Do you want to know what wasn't 'like me'?" Sam continued. "It wasn't like me to go around with my mouth shut pretending I wasn't feeling the things I felt for you. I should have laid things down on the table a lot sooner. Do you realize how much you terrified me, Kurt? I was so scared of getting rejected that I completely shut down! That's how much I like you, and I have come too far to go back to the way it was."

"Wait. What are you saying?" Kurt's eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. "Of course it's not going to go back to the way it was. I want to be with you."

"Then call him," Sam said steadily. "Call him and tell him the truth."

Kurt looked over at his phone. Sam watched his face, waiting for something to click; for a hint of decisiveness. "Okay."

"Okay?" Sam was surprised. He'd been prepared to keep fighting.

"Okay," Kurt forced a sad smile. "You're right. This isn't fair."

Kurt turned on his phone, and waited a moment for the screen to load. Sam considered staying in the room and making sure Kurt actually had the conversation, but he quickly realized how bad that would be. He needed to show Kurt he trusted him, so he removed himself from the room.

Kurt looked down at his three missed calls. It made him feel even worse that Blaine had been so eager to keep in touch with him. Kurt decided to listen to his voicemail, not because it actually mattered what Blaine had said, but because he wanted to put off actually talking to him.

_"Hey. Pick up your phone. I'm going to call you back in a few minutes. You really need to. I have a surprise."_

Based on the background noises (a large collection of muffled, echoing voices) it sounded like Blaine was out in public. Maybe he was at a mall or something. His phone beeped as the next voicemail started.

_"Kurt…I'm getting in a cab. Pick up your phone. Or don't. Whatever…It doesn't really matter at this point… It might actually be better this way."_

Why was Blaine getting in a cab? Kurt swallowed nervously. His suspicions were getting the best of him, but he didn't want to make any complete assumptions just yet. The phone beeped one last time.

_"Yeah, so I'm really bad with surprises, and I didn't want to completely catch you off guard. I know we agreed to give each other space, but we both know that's crazy right…" _

Kurt barely listened to the rest of the message. His face went hot as he began to process just how upsettingly unfortunate this whole situation was. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths and, straining to maintain his composure, made his way down the hall.

Sam was sitting on his own bed with his bedroom door wide open. Kurt appeared in the doorway, and Sam looked up at him, looking the slightest bit relieved. It only took a moment for his face to fall, because it was that easy for him to doubt that he had actually gotten something he wanted.

"That was fast," Sam said weakly. "What, no yelling? Or did he just hang up on you?"

"He um…" Kurt fidgeted with his phone. "He got a flight into LaGuardia. He's on his way over now."

Sam wanted to get angry. He wanted to yell again or kick over some furniture. He realized, though, that Kurt hadn't planned this. He had to stay calm. "Good." Sam said, standing up slowly. "You can do it in person."

* * *

><p>The second Kurt opened the door for Blaine; the smaller boy pulled him into an uncomfortably affectionate hug. Kurt knew that the two of them had shared far more intimate moments, but after everything that had happened, touching Blaine felt so wrong.<p>

"I've missed you too much," Blaine told him. "I know I wasn't supposed to come back yet, but I've been doing a lot of thinking, and I really want you to hear me out. Can you do that?"

Sam was sitting at the kitchen table, and untouched sandwich on his plate, unable to ignore the conversation.

Kurt stepped out of the apartment and picked up the two large suitcases that Blaine had left in the hall. He brought them into the foyer and put them against the wall.

"Blaine, do you remember why I sent you home in the first place?" Kurt tried to be gentle. "Do you really think that I'd react well to this? I mean, you obviously had so much trouble functioning without me that you couldn't restrain yourself from making an impromptu trip out here."

Blaine's face fell. "Kurt, you can't honestly still be on that! I thought absence made the heart grow fonder. I mean, that was certainly the case for me."

"Your fondness was never the problem!" Kurt snapped back.

"The way we've been talking, Kurt…" Blaine tried. "…The last week or so…it seemed like things were getting better…"

Sam's stomach twisted as he visualized Kurt and Blaine having pleasant phone conversations in between the far more pleasant times he and Kurt had been spending together.

"They weren't," Kurt told him. There was a kind of a pleading tone in his voice. "They aren't. God, Blaine. You shouldn't have come back. This is horrible timing."

Blaine stared at Kurt in disbelief. "So…wow…what, then, should I leave?"

"Don't be stupid. I'm not going to let you spend the night on the streets."

"But something tells me you're not going to let me spend the night in your bed either!"

"Look, can we go into the living room and sit down?" Kurt tried. "We should really sit down to talk about this."

"…About what?" Blaine shouted. "Kurt, do you even want to be with me at all anymore?"

There was a long, uncomfortable silence that Sam practically drowned in. He wished there wasn't that hesitancy. He wished that Kurt could just say it: _"No"_

"I don't know," Kurt said simply. "I'd really like to talk this through. Can we just sit down?"

"Why don't you just answer my questions instead of torturing me?" Blaine cried.

"Because we're adults, Blaine," Kurt snapped back. "And adults take the time to talk things through. There's a lot I want to say before we make a real decision. So, please, will you just come and sit with me?"

Blaine clenched his teeth, trying his best not to cry. He nodded, and started following Kurt down the hall.

Sam heard their footsteps moving towards the living room, and stared at his sandwich a little longer. He was trying to be optimistic. Maybe Kurt was just trying to make Blaine feel better by making it sound like he hadn't come to an official decision yet. However, there was a tearing feeling in his gut that told him of another possibility: the possibility that Kurt was pretending that he had made up his mind just to make Sam feel better.

Sam realized, at that moment, that he'd completely lost his appetite. He picked his plate up and carried it across the room, dumping its contents in the trash.


	14. Chapter 14

Sam fell asleep, waiting for Kurt and Blaine to finish talking in the living room. They had been in there for hours, and Sam found himself unable to do anything but sit in bed and wait.

Around midnight, Sam awoke to Kurt slowly lowering himself onto the bed. He sat beside Sam; lightly brushing a lock of hair out of Sam's startled face.

"Hey…" Sam said weakly, trying to be cool but immediately wanting answers.

Kurt cut right to the chase. "It's over. I broke up with Blaine."

"Oh." Sam said simply. He still wasn't sure what anything meant.

"Yeah," Kurt smiled sadly. "He's going to stay here for a few days, though. He flew all the way out here and I don't want to rush him. Is that okay?"

No. It wasn't okay. Sam knew this wasn't good news for him at all. "I don't know. What does it mean for us?" He asked Kurt.

Kurt hesitated. He looked scared to answer. "Well, I didn't exactly tell him that there was an us," He admitted. "Look, he's devastated enough as it is. I don't want to make it worse. Besides, it might do you and me some good to take a few days to cool off."

"Right," Sam forced a small smile of agreement. "Cooling off sounds about right…"

"Hey," Kurt sensed Sam's disappointment and gently cupped Sam's face in his hand, forcing the taller boy to look up at him. "This isn't at all over, Sam Evans. It's just beginning. You realize that, right?"

Sam's heart swelled as he leaned into Kurt's soft touch. His eyes fluttered closed as Kurt planted a kiss on his forehead. Sam was so unsatisfied. He ran a hand over the back of Kurt's hair and pressed a rough kiss on Kurt's mouth. Kurt accepted it, but broke away after several seconds.

"It will just be a few days."

Sam nodded, and watched Kurt leave the room. His stomach did another one of it's all-too-familiar somersaults, and Sam knew that he'd be living like this for a while; with the constant fear that it was too good to be true. The only way to calm his nerves was for Blaine to be gone as soon as possible. Until Kurt was free and willing to make an absolute commitment, Sam would have to tolerate the fear of losing him.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Sam walked into the kitchen to find Blaine at the head of the table, a mug of coffee clasped in his hands. He sat completely still, and his eyes were bloodshot. Sam could tell he'd been crying, and immediately felt awkward. He considered turning around and going back to his room, but Blaine had already seen him.<p>

"Good morning," Blaine told Sam lightly. He was trying hard to sound pleasant and nonchalant, but his voice was shaking.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, going over to the coffee maker to get a mug himself.

"Do I look okay?" Blaine shrugged.

Sam didn't know what to do. He poured his coffee and went over to the table, his nice guy instincts took over.

"Look, I know it's hard. I've been dumped before."

"And what was your longest relationship?" Blaine rolled his eyes. "A few months…? Yeah, why don't you tell me how hard it was when your beards left you to find guys who actually wanted to touch them?"

Sam took a deep breath. Blaine's words rolled right off him, because he knew the hostility was even more warranted than Blaine understood. "That doesn't mean I didn't feel the rejection."

"You've never had what me and Kurt had, Sam!" Blaine cried. "You came out of the closet and the first thing you did was fuck Sebastian fucking Smythe! Clearly, you don't even know the value of a real relationship."

Sam laughed cruelly. "You know what, this isn't about Me." …Even if it was.

Blaine blinked at him, something switching inside of him. "You're right. It's not. I'm sorry. This is just…it's been rough."

"Like I said; I understand." Sam hated his compulsive need to be the good guy all the time.

To his horror, Blaine finally accepted the unspoken invitation to bear his soul. "You probably know Kurt as well as I do." Blaine chuckled in realization. "You probably know him better. I mean, you're his best friend, right?"

"Right…" Oh god. Sam wanted to die.

"So, what's your opinion? This has to be temporary. He's freaking out now because he's afraid of commitment, but it will blow over, right?"

Sam took a long sip of coffee. "Honestly, dude, he seems pretty serious. Like I said, I know it's hard, but eventually you'll be able to move on."

Blaine blinked at Sam, pursing his lips in an intense sadness. "Okay…" He said finally, accepting Sam's words. "You know, I've been preparing myself for this. I couldn't admit it, really, but I knew it was over. Kurt was done. I think I just had to come out here and make absolute sure. So, now I know. It hurts like shit, but I've realized I'll be okay with it…I should just go back to Lima."

"Yeah, you should," Sam felt guilty, but at the same time he knew that he was going to get exactly what he wanted, and that felt good.

"Okay." Blaine blinked back tears, but also let out a sigh that indicated some sort of relief. "Okay, yeah…I'll book a flight."

Sam knew that at the end of the day, this was exactly how things were supposed to be happening. He hadn't expected to feel so bad about being the other man, though. He wasn't lying to Blaine. He did know how it felt to be dumped. He remembered when Quinn had cheated on him with Finn; when Santana had started dating Karofsky without telling him (even if it turned out later that every variable in that equation equaled raging homosexual). It had sucked to be alone in the end; unsure of when someone would come along and love you. Sure, Blaine had been an asshole to him on several occasions, but the guy was human, and Sam didn't want to be completely responsible for his unhappiness. _You're getting everything you want, _Sam told himself. _The least you can do is leave him with something in return. _

"We'll still pay for your flight," Sam told Blaine confidently. Without even thinking, he added, "And the car. You can keep the car."

Blaine laughed. "Seriously? I don't know if I could do that."

"You can absolutely do it. I think Kurt's going to feel too guilty to ask for it back, anyway. He'll think about it, but he'd never actually do it."

"And how do I explain to people how I afforded it without sounding like a complete prostitute?" Blaine joked. "The guys I date won't be too impressed by my wheels if they know it came from the teenage millionaire ex."

"Your parents are loaded," Sam laughed. "Just say you got an advance on your trust fund."

"Alright," Blaine shrugged. "I'll keep the car."

"Good," Sam said, feeling better about himself. "You still mean a lot to Kurt, and he wanted you to have it. I want you to have it."

Blaine stared at Sam for a few minutes, a strange look on his face as he tried to figure him out. Finally, his expression softened. "I'm really sorry that I've been so hard on you, Sam. You're actually a good guy."

Sam's heart was racing. He felt like he could crack at any moment, but he knew he had to be strong. "Well, I try…"

* * *

><p><em>"Every long lost dream…led me to where you are…others who broke my heart…they were like Northern Stars…"<em> The Rascal Flats pounded through Sam's headphones as he jogged rhythmically through central park. _"…God bless the broken road that led me straight to you." _

The lyrics were hitting close to home, and he had to remind himself that Blaine wasn't actually gone yet. He shouldn't be feeling as light and optimistic as he was. Everything seemed to be working out, though; going in the right direction. Maybe, for once, fate was one his side.

He'd left the apartment because he desperately needed to pass the time. He couldn't wait any longer. He just wanted to change his relationship status on Facebook, and make Kurt breakfast in bed, and daydream about the day he'd put a ring on Kurt's finger. He thought about their first talk show appearance as an actual couple; how great it would be to not have to lie about his feelings. He had too much hope; too many happy thoughts right now. He didn't know what to do with them.

He was so wrapped up in his own euphoria, that he almost didn't notice a familiar person on the path ahead of him. Even with Blaine's reminder during their breakfast confrontation, he'd kept Sebastian pretty far from his mind over the course of the last few days.

Sebastian was talking pretty closely with another guy. The two men did a quick handshake and Sam was suspicious as Sebastian's hand went right into his pocket afterward. The other guy glanced around nervously before escaping down the path. Sebastian held back for a moment, probably only seconds away from his own escape. Then, his eyes met Sam's.

He put on a predatory smile; probably in an attempt to act like nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Well, well," Sebastian strolled toward Sam. "It looks like my little plaything survived the wrath of Pinocchio. Good job. Although, I _am_ a little disappointed… I thought for sure that you were murdered by the mighty Hummel and that's why you haven't called."

"Like you never learned to dial a phone," Sam teased. His eyes instinctively traveled to the pocket of Sebastian's shorts, where Sam had seen him slip his hand just moments ago. "What were you talking about with that guy?"

"Who… Jack?" Sebastian glanced in the direction that the other man had left in. "He's an old friend."

"Sebastian…" Sam knew that he had no right to ask, but his curiosity got the best of him. Maybe he could no longer filter himself around Sebastian due to the fact that they'd seen each other naked. "Did you just do a drug deal?"

Sebastian's eyes narrowed. He licked his lips confidently. "Why, are you a narc now?"

"No, not at all," Sam said in response. "I'm just surprised to see you making such bold decisions in broad daylight."

"Look," Sebastian said quickly. "It's not like I'm an addict or a dealer. We do coke at parties, and I told Lara I'd bring the stuff tonight. It's so much cheaper to plan ahead, you know?"

"Can't say that I do…" Sam replied smartly.

"Well, you get the idea," Sebastian rolled his eyes. "And it's a little late to be judging me."

"I'm not judging," Sam said honestly. "You can do whatever you want."

"Fine, I will…" Sebastian said in return. Sam noticed a weird strain in his voice, though; something resembling shame. "So, you know…we're partying at the girls' house tonight. They've been asking about you, and nagging me to invite you to hang out with us again."

"Oh yeah…?" Sam raised his eyebrows, only slightly flattered and intrigued. "Why haven't you?"

Sebastian hesitated. "I didn't want to cause any problems for you. Besides, I'm tired of wasting time with guys who are hung up on Kurt Hummel."

"Yeah…" Sam looked awkwardly at his feet, wondering if Sebastian even deserved an update. "That's probably wise thinking…"

"So, look, I gotta go," Sebastian said, giving Sam an awkward pat on the shoulder. "We'll meet up soon, though, okay? Nothing wrong with having cocktails with a friend, is there?"

"No, not at all," Sam smiled. He felt good about this. He didn't think anything could end peacefully with Sebastian Smythe, and it was comforting to know that the other boys seemed to have a reasonable understanding of their situation.

Sebastian gave him a final wave before retreating down the path. Sam watched him go, and turned the other way to continue with his jog.

* * *

><p>Blaine and Kurt walked into the kitchen; their arms loaded with their pottery class creations that had finally come back from their final trip to the kiln.<p>

"I can't fly back with all of this," Blaine told Kurt. "You can keep it. I have no use for it."

"I don't want it." Kurt told him. "You can leave it, though. I'll ship it back to Lima next week. It's yours."

Blaine smiled awkwardly, unsure how to admit that it would hurt too much to keep the reminder of the life he was supposed to share with Kurt. He couldn't keep any of it.

"Kurt," He heard himself ask, "Would you have asked me to give back the car?"

Kurt had to take a moment to think about it. "Honestly? No, probably. It's not like I need the money."

"Sam told me I could keep it," Blaine admitted.

Kurt started to feel a little bit on edge. "You can do whatever you want," He heard himself snap. "I guess Sam is entitled to an opinion. It's his money too."

Blaine sensed something strange in Kurt's voice. "Yeah, it is. He's a good guy. I guess I can understand why you'd want to be in this with him."

"Oh, so now you're okay with it?" Kurt couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand lying to Blaine, and letting him think that everything was okay. "You got on my case for a month about playing with him! Why is it okay now?"

"Sam helped me realize…" Blaine started.

Kurt interrupted. He couldn't believe it. "_Sam_ helped you realize?"

"You and I are too young. It had to end. I can't be too bitter about what's happened, because at the end of the day, we just aren't ready for the commitment."

"I guess breaking up isn't hard to do when you're getting a car out of it," Kurt mumbled incredulously.

The two of them stood in silence for a minute, neither of them fully able to process what was happening.

"Okay, so, do you want me to be upset?" Blaine's voice rose. "Would that make you feel better, Kurt? Do you just want me to suffer as much as I possibly can?"

"No!" Kurt heard himself yell. The words began flowing before he could stop them. "If that was the case, I would've just told you the truth?"

Blaine rolled his eyes, expecting something trivial. "The truth about what?"

"...That I'm in love with him!" Kurt spit out.

The room fell silent, Kurt's words hanging in the air.

"…What…?" Blaine's voice shrunk.

"Damn it, Blaine," Kurt choked, tears beginning to pool in his eyes. "God damn it…I just…I couldn't tell you, but here you are treating us like good guys. We're not. We're just…paying you off and letting you walk away."

"You're…in love with Sam?" Blaine obviously didn't care why Kurt had decided to tell him. "I fucking knew it."

"I'm sorry," Kurt whimpered.

"So, what, you've been sleeping with him this whole time?" Blaine accused.

"Not this _whole_ time…" Kurt muttered.

"Shit!" Blaine cried, growing hysterical. "Just…shit, Kurt!"

Kurt realized he couldn't even stand anymore. He lowered himself into a nearby chair, his arms wrapped around himself.

Suddenly they heard the front door open. Quinn had gone shopping and wasn't expected back until the end of the day, so Kurt and Blaine knew who it had to be.

"Well, speak of the mother fucking devil!" Blaine threw his arms in the air, wailing.

Sam heard this from the foyer as he timidly kicked off his Nikes. He felt a wave of immediate nausea, because he knew exactly what had happened. Kurt had told Blaine. Why on earth would Kurt tell Blaine? Sam knew he was a part of this. He knew that he had to help Kurt out. He entered the kitchen slowly. Blaine froze to look at him with an ice cold stare.

"You fucking asshole," Blaine growled. "How could you just sit at that table and lie to my face? I was actually starting to trust you!"

Before Sam could react, Blaine had rushed toward him. He gave the larger boy a powerful shove. Sam stumbled back and hit the wall, too sorry to defend himself. Kurt rushed over and pulled Blaine back before he could attack Blaine again. Blaine shook Kurt off, the tears now pouring down his face.

Blaine shook his head rapidly. "I can't be here anymore. I can't be in this apartment…" His breathing had sped up significantly, he was practically hyperventilating. "I feel like puking."

Kurt had to be understanding. It was his fault. He had let things get this way. Blaine's flight didn't leave until the next day, but at this point, he was willing to give Blaine anything he wanted. He owed him that much. "I'll put you up in a hotel tonight," Kurt told him as reassuringly as one possibly could in such a situation. "You'll stay there tonight. You'll fly home and…"

Blaine cut him off. "You bet your ass you're paying for a fucking hotel room!" His voice was low and vicious. He sounded scarier than Kurt had ever heard him. "And that's the last thing you're ever paying for, because I never want to touch your filthy money ever again."


	15. Chapter 15

Blaine lay in the queen-sized bed of his Travelodge suite (her wouldn't let Kurt spring for anything else). In fact, he'd almost ended up at a 23-dollar-a-night youth hostile that didn't have shower curtains, but Kurt and Sam wouldn't stop arguing with him about his safety. His eventual compromise mainly had to do with the fact that he knew the sooner they all agreed, the sooner he could get away from them.

He hugged his pillow, letting the cheap synthetic stuffing soak his tears up like a sponge. He desperately needed to blow his nose, but he didn't think that he could move from that spot. He had never been in so much pain. Sure, he'd broken his wrist once playing football in junior high, and the rock salt slushie had been a bitch, but all of that was just physical pain. Laying on the concrete floor of the parking garage, his hands clutching his face, Blaine knew somewhere deep down that eventually, he'd heal. The pain would go away. How was he going to recover from this?

Blaine had had so much trust. All along, he's done nothing but believe that he was Kurt's one and only. There was the night Kurt ducked out of the Warbler's movie night because there was something he wanted to ask the Pizza guy. There were Sam's longing stares during junior Prom, which Blaine chose to ignore all through Kurt's coronation dance. Neither of those things were enough to scare Blaine at the time, but after Sam moved back to Lima, they just became more reasons for Blaine to hate himself; what he'd let them get away with.

"Sam Evans…" Kurt raved when the blond returned. "He helped win sectionals with the Dirty Dancing number last year. Remember? He's amazing."

_ "We won too, remember?"_ Blaine had wanted to yell. _"The judges didn't even like him enough to declare them the full winners." _

His jealousy for Sam's allegedly irreplaceable stage presence and artistic contribution was only part of his misery. Mike casually mentioned during lunch one day that Sam's body was so great; people _paid_ him to take his shirt off. Blaine could've dealt with this if it hadn't been followed with a nonchalant, "Yeah, he's staying in our guest room. It will give us a great chance to catch up," From Kurt.

It should have been a nightmare: The mornings Blaine would wake up to Facebook posts that Kurt and Sam had tagged each other in at three AM; the times Kurt would sit next to Sam during Glee rehearsal because being near him had become a habit. All the times he saw them whispering to each other, exchanging inside jokes like the world would implode if they dared let Blaine, or anyone else for that matter, in on one. Kurt and Sam had been in their own little world forever. Blaine had become a visitor in his own relationship.

He'd loved Kurt so much. He'd never even _considered_ straying, and he'd had such awesome opportunities. Okay…one opportunity. The worst part was that Sam had taken that too. He had even managed to taint Sebastian Smythe.

Blaine was bordering hysterical. He started to choke on his own mucus, and had to sit up to assist his draining. He looked around the hotel room, and felt like it had gotten bigger since he'd come in. He realized for the first time how quiet it was, and how early it was…it was only five PM. His flight wasn't until noon the next day. It wasn't that he wanted to hurt himself. He would never do that, but for some reason he couldn't see himself making it until morning. Not alone, anyway.

He dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. For a second, he thought about calling Quinn. She might be Sam's best hag, but maybe she was choosing to remain and objective third party during all of this drama. Blaine looked at her number in his phone for a minute, but then chose not to call it. As reasonable as his justification in potentially calling her was, he really just couldn't get past the fact that she was _Sam's_best hag. What is Sam had gone to Rachel in such a situation? Blaine would like to think that she'd just be patronizing him. She wouldn't have much genuine sympathy because her loyalties were lying elsewhere.

Blaine then realized that he had only one other option. There was only one other person that he knew in the city. Tainted or not, anything was better than being alone.

* * *

><p>Kurt had assembled a few of the cardboard boxes that somehow hadn't made it to recycling when he and Sam had moved in. He was loading them with Blaine's things; things Kurt had bought for him while he was staying in New York, and had left when he went back to Lima because both of them thought he'd be back for good one day.<p>

What made Kurt feel worse than anything, was that he realized he still had no apprehensions about choosing Sam over Blaine. He felt like that should be different, that this was where the second guessing should kick in. Maybe if he regretted losing Blaine, he'd be able to tell himself that it was all a fluke; that he wasn't some heartless asshole who'd broken a great guy's heart. All he regretted, though, was the way it had gone down. He'd admitted the truth in a fog of emotions and now he couldn't take it back. He couldn't just go back in time and let things end smoothly, like they should have.

He knew he had to forget. He wished Blaine would have agreed to take all of his stuff, because Kurt hated that he was expected to deal with it. He stood over one of the boxes, a light cable-knit sweater from Banana Republic clasped in his hands. He felt himself getting emotional, remembering the day they'd bought it. They walked the streets of New York, hand in hand and Kurt had thought to himself, _"This is perfect, right? This is exactly how being a couple is supposed to go."_

That was so much of his relationship with Blaine. A lot of his feelings for the other boy was gratefulness; appreciation in the fact that someone existed who he had enough in common with, and was willing to put up with him. He had loved being with Blaine. There was so much joy in the time they spent together, but looking back, he wondered how much of that was the joy of security.

He dropped the sweater into the box, and then wiped his wet cheek with the palm of his hands, realizing that he was still crying. For some reason, thinking about crying made him cry harder. He sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to breathe deeply and get control of himself.

"Hey…" There was a soft tap at his open door.

Kurt looked up to see Quinn coming toward him. "Sorry…" He told her, though he wasn't sure what for.

"What are you doing?" She asked gently, peeking into one of the boxes. "Are you shipping Blaine's stuff back?"

"Actually I was going to donate it all to the homeless."

"Well, I've never seen a homeless man in a Ralph Lauren polo, but I guess there's a first time for everything," Quinn shrugged.

"Guess so…" Kurt nodded solemnly.

"Are you okay?" Quinn finally asked him. "Sam said things got pretty intense earlier."

"Things could have been handled so differently," Kurt told her as she came and lowered herself onto the bed next to him. "But I'm going to be okay. In the end, I just really love him. I guess somewhere inside of me I always have."

"He loves you too," Quinn assured him. "…More than anything, but I think you realize that by now."

"I do," Kurt's tears had slowed, and a distant smile came over his face. "When I bought him those lottery tickets, I was just thinking that…if there was some way I could provide for him; if we could just take care of each other… even when I thought he was straight and that we'd just be best friends for the rest of our lives, it meant so much to me to be able to share that with him. I told him it was a happy accident that we won; that choosing him didn't mean anything. That was the biggest lie I've ever told."

Quinn put and arm around Kurt and gave him a squeeze. "You two are so lucky."

Kurt nodded. "I know. I just wish that by some stroke of fate, Blaine hadn't ended up with the short end of the stick."

Quinn sighed heavily. She knew there was nothing she could do to change it. All she knew was that there was something she could do to make Kurt's life easier.

"How about I go through the closet and take care of Blaine's things," She offered. "It won't be hard to tell his stuff apart from yours. All of his clothes are a size small, and I know to spare any gaudy accessories that aren't bow ties."

Kurt nodded, accepting the offer. "Thank you, Quinn. Really, I can't stand to go through all his stuff anymore. I feel like I'm cleaning out the apartment of a man I've murdered."

"It's no problem. Think of it as me earning my room and board,"

Kurt chuckled. He gave the girl a big hug before standing up and leaving her to her chore.

He made his way down to Sam's room and lightly knocked on the door. Sam told him to come in and he stepped over the threshold to find Sam casually laying in bed on his laptop. He was wearing McKinley High School sweatpants and no shirt, and had a knit throw blanket draped over his shoulders.

"Hey…" Sam said uncertainly. Kurt could tell by his tone that he though the only way he'd be coming to talk to him was if it was about something serious. They'd spend so many days having dramatic conversations.

Kurt didn't say anything. He went over to the bed and climbed up next to Sam. Sam automatically lifted and arm and pulled Kurt next to him, letting Kurt nuzzle his head into his soft, bare shoulder. Sam closed his computer without even closing the Youtube window he'd had open, and used his free hand to set it on the nightstand. Kurt slipped his arms around Sam's torso and Sam shifted to be comfortable, holding Kurt with both arms as well.

"I really love you," Sam muttered into Kurt's hair.

"I love you," Kurt said back, still crying a bit into Sam's shoulder.

Sam reached up and lightly stroked Kurt's hair. As bad as the other boy was feeling, he knew that things were on their way to being right. This was the way it was supposed to be.

* * *

><p>Blaine opened the door without looking through the peephole.<p>

"Asking me to meet you in a cheap motel?" Sebastian grinned, letting himself in. "I've been waiting for this moment since the day we met. You better make it an unforgettable night or I'll be disappointed."

He looked around, taking in the environment, and then his eyes landed on Blaine.

"You look upset."

"No shit," Blaine mumbled.

"Okay…" Sebastian said slowly, not sure what move to make next. "Well, you should know I have to be somewhere at eleven. You can come if you want, but I really can't stay here on suicide watch."

"God…!" Blaine cried. "Could you have, like, a little sensitivity for once?"

Sebastian's face didn't change. "Wait, you're not actually considering offing yourself, are you?"

"Dear lord. Of course not," Blaine mumbled, crossing his arms.

Sebastian tried hard to read his face. "Look, I don't really know what I'm doing here. I'll admit, I was mostly intrigued by the fact that the guy who hadn't called me since I put him in surgery was suddenly begging for my company, but another part of me showed up because, despite the fact that you've spent months rudely ignoring my apologies…" Sebastian paused, unsure of how to put what he wanted to say. "…I still care about you as much as I did when we were friends."

Blaine hesitated, his eyes narrowing a bit, as he tried to figure Sebastian out as well. Finally, he gave up. He closed his eyes and shook his head, fighting another flood of tears. "I don't need you to care about me."

Sebastian accepted this immediately. "Well, what do you need me to do?" He responded seriously.

Blaine swallowed nervously. He slowly started approaching Sebastian. He said his voice low and rough, "I need you to make me forget about them."

Sebastian didn't even have to ask who "they" were. His face didn't move, but as Blaine came closer, his eyes lit up. He knew that it was wrong; that Blaine was probably vulnerable. Sebastian wasn't even sure why Blaine was alone in a hotel room in the first place. However, Sebastian wasn't one to let his conscious get in the way.

Blaine didn't waste any time. He grabbed the bottom of Sebastian's shirt and pulled the garment over his head, tossing it to the floor. Sebastian was surprised. He'd never expected any of this from Blaine. Honestly, it was throwing him off a bit. It made him a little nervous actually.

Sebastian looked down at Blaine's tear-stained face. He lifted his hands and wiped Blaine's cheeks with his thumbs. "Babe, you're a mess," He chuckled. "What do you say we get in the shower and clean you up?"

Blaine smiled wickedly. With that, he grabbed both of Sebastian's hands and began walking backwards, pulling him toward the bathroom.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N - So, it's getting close to the end. It was originally going to be longer, but I condensed I love of the Kurt/Blaine stuff that I was originally going to write because...well...I just didn't want to write a bunch of Klaine chapters. I'm thinking of getting out the last couple of chapters in the next week or two so that I can focus on the Seblaine stories I've been writing. EEP. Fun stuff. Maybe one day I'll update those Faberry and Puckleberry stories I never finished...OOPS. **

**ANYWAY. Sorry for the lack of author's notes in the last few chapters. I was lazy. You know I appreciate those who review, but if I haven't said it loud enough THANK YOU. Enjoy chapter 16!**

* * *

><p>"Tell me another one…" Kurt whispered. He laced his fingers with Sam's and smiled admirably at the way their hands looked together. They had started playing this little game where Sam would tell Kurt stories of the times Kurt should have known they would be more than friends one day.<p>

"Okay…" Sam said softly, planting another soft kiss on the side of Kurt's forehead. "Well, there was that one time. I think it was the weekend before we went back to school after winter break, and I had _just _gotten back from Kentucky. I was on the couch, eating a bowl of Special K and watching reruns of _Battlestar_, and you came in and sat, like, _right_ next to me. You kept asking all these questions about the plot, and I swore after awhile you were just _trying_ to get on my nerves. The thing was, I didn't care. The way you leaned against me with every question…I really enjoyed it more than I should. Eventually, you got so intentionally obnoxious that we were both in tears because we were laughing so hard. I finally gave in and changed the channel and we watched those… what were they? …Mormons on TLC."

"_Sister Wives!" _Kurt laughed in confirmation.

"Yeah, and you started saying that Polygamy should be legal; that you had no more right to judge them than they did you for wanting to marry a dude…"

"It's true!" Kurt cried. "But you completely twisted it and started talking about what an orgy gay polygamy would be."

"It was my turn to make you laugh," Sam told him.

"You always make me laugh," Kurt said lightly, tracing the line of Sam's bicep with his fingertips. "You're always saying the weirdest things. Either that or you're doing some impression…"

"You love my impressions," Sam reminded him.

Kurt laughed. "Oh. I suppose I do."

"Yeah, and that's how I know you're a keeper." Sam told him. "You've always appreciated me for exactly who I am."

Sam's phone started buzzing on his nightstand. He checked it quickly and saw that Sebastian was calling him. No one on earth could seem less significant.

Kurt was quiet for a moment. "Can I have a turn?"

"Oh, shut up," Sam laughed. "You were so clueless. You don't even have any stories."

"No! We talked about this! It was my personal goal junior year to make out with you."

"For, like, two weeks." Sam dismissed. "I've been in love with you for months."

Suddenly, Kurt lifted his head off Sam's shoulder so he could look him in the eye. "Sam, there's no going back from here, do you realize that? We already have this fortune together. It's almost like we're married. I mean…no…of course we're not married. I know that we're young. I know that's something really, really far in the future…not even necessarily for us…I mean…" Color rushed to Kurt's cheeks.

"No, I know what you mean," Sam shrugged. "Things could get messy if things ended badly between us. The money complicates things."

"Exactly," Kurt told him. "It's a lot of pressure. That being said, you need to ask yourself right now if this is one of those situations where as soon as you get what you want, you don't want it anymore."

"Of course not," Sam was a little offended that Kurt would even accuse him of that. "Kurt, I'm not worried about you and me. I'm just worried that one day I'll wake up and this will all be a dream…"

The moment was ruined by his phone starting to go off again.

"Do you need to get that?" Kurt asked gently. "It's okay if you take calls when we're together…"

Sam reached for his phone to ignore the call again. "It's Sebastian." He informed Kurt.

"Oh…" Kurt was genuinely surprised, but somehow secure enough not to be jealous. "You haven't gotten rid of him yet?"

"That's the thing. I saw him in the park earlier and things certainly seemed pretty over…"

"So, why is he calling you?"

Sam shrugged. "Who knows. Does it matter?" He shifted his weight so that he was hovering over Kurt a bit. He kissed Kurt cutely on the forehead. "Let's talk about us some more…" Kurt grinned deviously, and pulled Sam closer to him, forcing a powerful kiss on Sam's soft lips. Sam chuckled through the kiss. "Or we could…not talk."

The phone started going off again. Sam pulled away from Kurt. "Mother of all hell…"

"Just answer it," Kurt pressed. "Tell him he's being a cock block."

Sam sat up, hanging his feet over the side of the bed. Kurt rolled over on his side, propping himself up on his elbow and resting his head in his palm, being as patient as he possibly could.

"You have one minute, and then I'm hanging up on you." Sam told Sebastian boredly.

"Is Hummel with you?" Sebastian asked with his voice all business-like.

"Yes. Why?"

"Okay, I don't want you to repeat anything I say or react in any tell-tale way…the last thing I want is to start drama."

"That doesn't sound like you," Sam told him suspiciously.

"What doesn't sound like him?" Kurt asked. Sam held up a finger to him as Sebastian continued.

"So, I'm in some trouble…" Sebastian proceeded uneasily. "Blaine flushed my coke down the toilet."

Sam was silent. He wanted to offer a sarcastic _"poor you", _but for some reason he'd decided to honor Sebastian's request that he not react.

"Hello?"

"This is me not reacting."

"Fuck you," Sebastian muttered. "Anyway, it's bad news for me because my people already paid for it."

"I thought you said you didn't deal."

"I told you not to say anything with Kurt there!" Sebastian shouted a bit too loudly.

"What is he saying about me?" Kurt asked, having heard his name.

Sam gave up, he turned to Kurt. "Blaine flushed Sebastian's drugs, and he doesn't want me to tell you."

"Excuse me?" Kurt's face contorted, completely confused.

"Wow, you suck," Sebastian muttered.

"How did Blaine even get his hands on it?" Sam asked.

"That's the part I didn't want your girlfriend to be enlightened about," Sebastian replied. "I was helping Blaine with his, shall we say… evening bathing ritual, over at the Travelodge, and when my pants hit the floor, the drugs slipped out of my pocket. He found them on the floor when we were drying off and freaked out, as if the cops were bringing the dogs upstairs as we spoke."

"I don't blame him. Who really wants illegal drugs in their hotel room?"

"…Hotel room? Well, those two work fast," Kurt said under his breath.

"Sam, hear me out…" Sebastian said over him.

"…I mean… I obviously have no right to an opinion…" Kurt was still saying.

Sebastian raised his voice. "I need money: A hundred dollars or so...just to pay everyone back. See, I have an allowance, and I'll pay you back, but right now I'm short on cash and everyone at this party gave me money for drugs and…"

Sam cut him off, "You want money…for replacement drugs?"

"What if I told you I'd only use it to pay everybody back and avoid a riot? I really wouldn't like to be beaten down by thugs tonight. My bone structure is perfect. I really can't afford any trauma."

"I really can't just _give_ you a hundred dollars," Sam told Sebastian.

"Why not…?" Sebastian challenged. "You don't buy anything. You have more money than you know what to do with."

Sam looked at Kurt, who was listening to him intently, fearing Sam's known passiveness. "You know drugs are bad for you, right?" Sam asked.

Kurt laughed lightly, patting his boyfriend on the back.

Sebastian huffed impatiently, "Yes, I believe I've been informed. Are you going to help me or not? "

"Where are you?" Sam finally asked. "Can you come to me? I don't feel like putting a shirt on."

"I'm actually on my way into your building as we speak," Sebastian told him charmingly.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm hanging up now. I'll let you up."

He stood up, lowering his phone. He glanced at Kurt, who blinked crossly, completely horrified.

"He made a good point," Sam explained timidly. "He said I don't buy anything. A hundred dollars is practically nothing."

"Wow…" Kurt pulled himself out of bed and followed Sam as he went into the hallway. "You really have no discretion do you."

"Look, Sebastian and I were friends. The least I can do is a favor for him before that has to change."

The intercom in the foyer beeped. Sam pressed a button and spoke into it. "Let him up," He told the doorman. He grabbed his wallet from the nearby key bowl to make sure he had cash. Kurt couldn't bear to be present for the coming transaction, and removed himself from the room.

When Sebastian entered the apartment, Sam handed him five twenty-dollar bills with no words. He noticed something different about Sebastian. His eyes were all red, and for a moment he wondered if Sebastian was high already. Then, he realized it was something else. Sebastian had been crying.

"Well, that certainly was easy," Sebastian said awkwardly, slipping the bills into his own wallet. "I really do appreciate your investment. I'll pay you back in two weeks; tops."

"Are you going to be okay?" Sam asked him, wondering if it was smart to let him go to a party in a weakened emotional state. "You look kind of…"

Sebastian interrupted quickly. "I'm fine." He swallowed, trying to maintain his usual composure. "Honestly. Thanks for the money…"

"You can pay everyone back a different night, maybe," Sam tried. "Who is it? Lara? Her sisters…? Maybe a few of their friends…? They'll understand if you call them and…and say that you couldn't get the drugs. You can tell everyone to stay in for the night."

"Stop being so nice to me, Sam," Sebastian said weekly. "I'm a fucking drug dealer."

"Look, I just want you to survive the night," Sam said defensively. "You helped me through a lot this summer. I just feel like maybe I owe it to you to, like, care a little bit…"

Sebastian's tears started to openly fall. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. "I hate you for it, you know?"

"For what…?" Sam asked quietly, legitimately intrigued.

"For a while I thought it would actually happen. I thought the money was actually going to change you, just like I said it would. I thought I saw this glimpse of you…one that was becoming as fucked up as I am."

"You're not fucked up," Sam lied.

"Even when you're drinking, you're selfless," Sebastian cried. "I don't think you could enjoy getting drunk if you weren't paying for other people to get twice as drunk! You're too damn generous. I know guys who pay for things just to show off, but that's not you. I can tell."

Sam didn't know why Sebastian's words made him so uncomfortable, "I don't know. It just seems like the right thing to do…"

"Yeah, well, I guess I always do the wrong thing, don't I," Sebastian spat bitterly. "I'm horrible."

"Not, like, one-hundred percent…" Sam tried.

"I'm irresponsible, entitled, reckless. I think I can get away with anything because I have money." Sebastian continued. "Blaine thinks so, at least. That's what he told me tonight when he found the coke. It's true. Did you know that when I tossed the slushy my dad donated the funds for a new gymnasium to Dalton so I wouldn't get expelled?"

"Wow…No…"

Sebastian sniffed. "Yeah, well, that's what happened. I was so lucky that Blaine even kind of forgave me after that. I had myself convinced that he'd chalked it up to one bad day; and error of judgment. Now I know for sure that I'll never have him. Even though I knew he was on the rebound tonight, I still went over there. Part of me still had hope. I think that's the difference between you and me, then, isn't it? You wait months for a guy to break up with his boyfriend and he actually loves you in the end. You're doing something right."

Sam didn't know what to say. In a sense, he agreed. Sebastian had always been an ass. But at the same time, he didn't want to make Sebastian feel bad. "It's just a different situation…" Sam tried.

"That's right. It's a really different situation." Sebastian said sadly. With that, he started to turn back toward the front door. "I hope you never change, Sam. Thanks for the money."

"You're welcome," Sam said softly. "Take care, okay?"

Sebastian gave a final, tearful nod, and then he was gone.

Sam returned to his bedroom, where Kurt was waiting on his bed. He was kind of surprised, because after being so complacent with Sebastian, he was expecting Kurt to spend a couple hours being mad at him. Seeing Kurt in his room, though, was the first time he realized just how strong their relationship was going to be. Sam walked over to the bed. Kurt pulled him into his arms as he climbed in. It was Sam's turn to be the little spoon. He wondered if it was weird that he and Kurt were spending so much time in bed without sleeping or having sex. He realized that he didn't care. Something about just cuddling and talking felt so right. It seemed like it was what he'd _really _been waiting for all this time.

"Do you think I'm too selfless?" Sam asked later that night, after he'd had some time to think about his conversation with Sebastian.

"Yes," Kurt said without hesitation. "That was such an unnecessary act of charity; it legitimately hurts me to know it happened."

"Okay, so tonight, it's established that I was a push-over. I mean, like, in general, though…"

"Remember how you were saying I couldn't possibly have any stories about you?" Kurt said, brushing his fingertips along the lines of Sam's forearm. "Sam. You're selfless to the point where it's ridiculous. Since we've been walking down memory lane, why don't we discuss the time you attacked Dave Karofsky because he was picking on me too much. Or, how about the fact that when I broke off our infamous duet partnership, you weren't mad at me; all you could worry about was the possibility that you'd hurt my feelings somehow. Most of all, you almost gave up your entire life last year so you could help your family. You took your clothes off for money, and it practically made you a martyr. I mean, you take action. You like to make other people happy. Sure, that's one of the reasons I fell in love with you, but you have to draw the line somewhere and take care of your self."

Sam had been nodding the entire time, trying to fully process what Kurt had said. "That's what I'm good at, though, right?"

Kurt lightly stroked Sam's hair. "You're great at it."

"I think that's what I should do, then," Sam told Kurt. "I don't just want to sit on my millions. I want to put them to good use; found a charity or something…"

"Then that's what you should do," Kurt said immediately. "It actually sounds kind of perfect."

It did. It sounded more than perfect. As Sam enjoyed how wonderful it was to be held by Kurt, he also fantasized about how wonderful it would be to make a difference. The only problem was, he didn't even know where to begin.


	17. Chapter 17

**Guys. I know most of you have forgotten about this story. I just kind of missed it and wanted to wrap it up. **

"Are you ready?" Kurt asked, stepping into the bedroom.

Sam was standing in front of a full-length mirror, evaluating the way he looked in his perfectly tailored suit. "I'll never be comfortable in one of these things." He said,

Kurt chuckled. He approached Sam and began straightening his tie. "Well, you look great." He told him.

Sam gave him a goofy smile. "Do I?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, and planted a soft kiss on Sam's lips.

Abby, their publicist, was waiting for them in the living room. A group of techies was scattered about, putting up lights and setting up cameras for the interview the couple was doing for the evening news.

"This setup is perfect, Abby," Sam grinned, happy that they were doing the interview from the comfort of his own home. He had to admit, once the two of them had established some ground rules, they got along pretty well.

Kurt sat down on the couch first, and Sam followed. They angled themselves toward the reporter, who sat at the end. Before they knew it, the taping had started.

"Remember those teenagers everyone was talking about back in May? Sam Evans and Kurt Hummel became national celebrities after they won the lottery the day Sam turned eighteen. Six months later, the two of them are sitting across from me, as in love as the day we met them, and wanting to share with us some of their plans for the future,"

"Well…actually…" Kurt chuckled nervously. "We really weren't together when this first started. A lot has changed."

"I had him in the friend zone…" Sam joked cockily.

Kurt playfully punched his arm. "That is such a lie!"

"But…you guys _are _together now?" The reporter wanted to make absolute sure.

"For the time being," Kurt sighed lightly. Sam chuckled in response.

"Well, America certainly isn't surprised…" The reporter cooed. "Do you want to humor us and tell us the story of how you got together?"

Sam and Kurt laughed nervously, and in unison. "No," Kurt said quickly.

"Yeah, we'll save that one for our grandchildren," Sam agreed.

"Fair enough," The reporter was being a good sport. "So, what do your lives look like now?"

"Well, I'm in school studying vocal performance, and Sam has been taking some Gen Eds..."

"I'll probably major in elementary education," Sam shrugged. "But there are some other things I'm going to want to participate in, so we'll see how it all works out."

"What things are we talking about here? Does this have anything to do with the announcement you've had us all so excited for?"

Sam sat up a little straighter. "Actually, it does."

"Do explain,"

"Well, when I was about eight, I was diagnosed with dyslexia. If it wasn't for all of the tutoring and the extra help my parents got for me over the years, I doubt I would have graduated high school. The thing is; I got lucky. Things were good for my family when I was a kid, and we had money. But when the economy crashed, things changed, and if it had been my little brother with the learning disability, he would have had to work a lot harder. So, Kurt and I have decided to start a non-for-profit organization that provides private help and resources to kids who are struggling with learning disabilities. We want to start by opening several centers in some of the underprivileged neighborhoods here in the city, and then we plan on branching out. I'd like it to be a nation-wide thing eventually."

The reporter's eyes were wide. She shook her head wearing an expression of pure amazement. "That's really incredible. I wish you the best."

"Thank you," Sam nodded humbly.

"So, was this both of your ideas?" She asked.

"We knew we wanted to do something," Kurt told her. "Sam came to me one night and said he wanted to help people, and so I just sort of took it on. We went through all the possibilities together until we finally asked ourselves, 'what would we be able to get really involved in'. Sam's personal connection here was enough to sell me."

"Wow…look at you two; making decisions together like a couple of adults," The reporter cried, making both boys laugh. "I have to say. I know you're still young, but I really hope your foundation is successful, and I hope, you know, that you stay together."

"Well, he's bound to get sick of me eventually," Kurt teased, patting Sam's knee.

Sam nodded in playful agreement. "Yeah, we'll see where it goes."

* * *

><p>"How cold is it supposed to be this weekend?" Kurt called from the closet later that week. Sam was reclining on the bed. He'd given up on packing.<p>

"I don't know. Cold…" He tried half-heartedly.

Kurt took a few steps so that Sam would see him glaring. "You're so helpful."

"Light layers, Kurt. It works for any climate." Sam told him intelligently. "I mean, isn't that what you always do?"

"I want it to be cold," Kurt whined. "I want to go back to my old, drafty, Midwestern house and have no choice but to wear bulky cardigans and bury myself in throw blankets."

Sam was quiet for a moment, and then decided to speak his mind. "I wish you were coming with me…"

"To _your_ parents' house…?" Kurt laughed. "My dad hasn't seen me since we went to Lima for Labor Day. If I'm not at that table for Thanksgiving dinner, heads will roll."

_"Off with your heads…"_ Sam sang dramatically.

"Oh my god…" Kurt rolled his eyes, trying not to grin. "You're completely ridiculous."

Sam accepted this as truth, and continued to stare at the ceiling, deep in thought. "We could split our time," He tried.

"What do you mean?" Kurt asked skeptically.

"Well, Burt and Carole usually eat pretty late, right?" Sam asked.

"Yeah…"

"So, we'll have lunch with my parents and dinner with yours."

Kurt came out of the closet again, blinking. "You want to drive four hours between lunch and dinner?"

"Who says we have to drive?" Sam asked. "We'll hire a chopper."

"You did not seriously just suggest that…" Kurt said, bored.

"It wouldn't be appropriate to spend thanksgiving apart," Sam reasoned. "I mean, you _are_ what I'm most thankful for."

Kurt laughed out loud. "You are so cheesy."

"And you're so mean to me," Sam pretended to pout. "I'm trying to be nice, and you're just attacking me with your words."

Kurt sighed and walked over to the bed, standing over Sam with his arms crossed. Sam smiled up at him sweetly.

"Is this actually important to you?" Kurt asked, inches away from giving in.

"Of course it is!" Sam told him.

"Sam…we already accidentally live together. If we spend family holidays together; that's it! We might as well be married."

"We might as well…" Sam mumbled.

"You're kidding..." Kurt said quickly. This was Sam. Sam was always telling jokes.

"Kind of…" Sam shrugged, sitting up and looking at Kurt. "I mean, what's stopping us?"

"Um…the fact that we're eighteen," Kurt said knowingly. "…The fact that we've been dating, what…four months?"

"People get married in Vegas after two hours," Sam reasoned. "And really, you and I have been together for a lot longer than that. We weren't dating, but we were together. I mean, we were spending all of our time together. That should be enough."

Kurt's jaw was hanging open. He couldn't find the words. "This is…what the hell…are you proposing Sam? Is _this_ how you're proposing?"

"Of course not," Sam tried. "But the conversation was going to happen eventually."

Kurt shook his head. "No. If either of us _ever_ proposes, it's going to be me, if only to ensure that it's a lot better than this."

"So what you're saying is that you'd have no problem marrying me as long as the proposal involves champagne and a flash mob?"

"I have no problem marrying you as long as we're of an appropriate age and the proposal is not some spontaneous decision you make because you don't want to eat alone with your parents!"

"I want them to really get to know you!" Sam tried. "I want them to love you as much as I do."

"Then just bring me there. Don't _propose_ to me!"

"Well, I asked you to just come, but you saidwe had to be married first."

"Oh dear lord…" Kurt laughed, amazed at how Sam kept twisting his words.

"So, do you want to or not?" Sam asked.

Kurt paused for a moment, realizing that spending time with Sam's family didn't actually seem like the worst possible scenario.

He exhaled heavily, shrugging. "Fine. We'll split our time."

* * *

><p>Once Sam and Kurt had flown to Kentucky, they rented a car to make the trip to Ohio. After a long conversation of discussing their options, they decided that they didn't want to hire a driver or a "chopper" pilot, and deprive someone of the holiday off.<p>

Sam offered to drive. After all, making the trip mid-day on Thanksgiving was his own idea. Sam cruised down the highway, one hand on the steering wheel and one hand clutching Kurt's. Kurt's seat was reclined, and his neck-pillow was put to good use as he prepared himself for a nap. Sam glanced at him, then looked back at the road with a small smile on his face.

"You're so cute," He told him.

"I'm exhausted," Kurt spat back.

"Go to sleep." Sam told him. "I'll wake you up when we get there."

"No. I want to keep you company," Kurt argued. "I need to make sure you're gonna stay alert."

"I'll turn the radio on," Sam rubbed little circles into Kurt's hand with his thumb.

Kurt gave his hand a squeeze, letting out a big yawn.

"I'm serious," Sam laughed. "Go to sleep."

Kurt closed his eyes, shifting in his seat. "Okay, but wake me up if you get lonely."

Sam didn't wake Kurt up, though. He let him sleep until they had pulled into the Hudson-Hummel's driveway. After he's put the car in park, he unlatched his seatbelt and turned to Kurt, gently reaching out to him. He ran his knuckles lightly down Kurt's cheek, smiling to himself.

"Hey, babe," Sam said softly. "We're at your parents' house."

Kurt's eyes fluttered open. He inhaled sharply, stretching, and slowly removing his neck-pillow. "How was the drive?" He asked sleepily.

"Good." They were slowly leaning towards each other. "How was your nap?"

"Good," Kurt said, his voice hushed. They were just inches apart.

Their lips finally met. At first, the kiss was innocent and tender. But Kurt, smiling into it, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend's torso and pulled him closer. Sam tried to position himself so that he could more easily move into the passenger seat, but clumsily hit the car horn with his elbow. The two of them jumped apart instinctively.

Before they knew it, Burt and Carole were rushing down the driveway to greet them. Kurt laughed, color rushing to his cheeks.

"God, I love you," He said to Sam randomly.

Sam grinned, "I love you more."

And they both climbed out of the car.

* * *

><p>When they got back to New York the following Sunday, their relationship was at an all time high. Both of them had been surprised at how easy the joint holiday had been. They'd each seen the other interacting with their families; Kurt exchanging recipes with Sam's mom, and watching Disney Channel with Stacy and Stevie; Sam talking football with Finn and Burt, and having a heart-to-heart about his career decisions with Carole. Sam's comfort wasn't a surprise, seeing how he'd lived in the Hudson-Hummel house for a year. But Kurt impressed Sam with how naturally he fit in.<p>

Sam kept thinking about the car ride to Lima. It was such a simple memory; listening to the first Christmas carols of the season, occasionally taking his eyes off the road to glance at Kurt, just to make sure he still looked comfortable, and thinking the whole time just how perfect the boy was.

Sam had snuck into Kurt's room every night in Lima, unable to stay away. However, they'd done nothing more than spoon, wanting to respect the fact that Burt and Carole were asleep on the other side of the paper-thin walls. So, naturally, their return to New York and their private apartment turned into a sort of honeymoon. Both of them were overly eager to express how much they loved each other in every way possible.

After a week of being back in New York, Sam was sure that the suggestion he'd made before leaving was more than impulsive. As much as he knew he was being pushy, he couldn't help but bring it up again. This time, though, he was prepared.

Kurt walked into the foyer after class one Tuesday night to find a post-it note stuck on the door of the coat closet. Kurt took it down and read it curiously.

_"Went to the gym. Made food. In the fridge." _

Kurt sighed, mildly disappointed that Sam wasn't there to greet him. He kicked his shoes off and made his way to the kitchen. When he pulled open the door, he found an index card propped up at eye-level.

_"Just kidding. There's no food. Do you mind putting my clothes in the drier when they're done?"_

Kurt laughed, confused. He went back into the hallway and entered the small laundry room across the hall. When he opened the washing machine, however, it was empty. There was, however a flimsy poster board rolled up and shoved inside it. Kurt was grinning now, realizing that this was some sort of game. He pulled the poster board out and read what Sam had written in big, sloppy handwriting.

_Hey babe, it turns out I didn't do my laundry after all. You should do it for me. It's in my hamper. _

Kurt rushed into Sam's room. He took the lid off of Sam's plastic hamper and found a bottle of champagne shoved in amongst the dirty clothes. Kurt got his hand around the neck and pulled it out. Sam had taped another index card to it.

_Kurt. I'm a big boy. I can do my own laundry. Bring this up to the roof. Now. _

Kurt's heart swelled. He held the bottle with both hands and went to meet Sam.

Sam was waiting for him on the roof, a picnic laid out on a checkered blanket and candles all around.

"What's this for?" Kurt asked, going to join Sam.

"This is for us," Sam grinned. "I guess I lied about lying about there being no food."

"You're forgiven," Kurt chuckled. He handed the bottle to Sam. Sam turned around as he opened it. Kurt heard the sound of Sam pouring into glasses, even though his back blocked Kurt from actually seeing it.

When he turned around again, his hands were shaking. Kurt noticed right away, and reached quickly for his glass before Sam could spill it. When he saw what was in the glass, however, he froze.

"Sam..." He said steadily. "Why is there a gold ring in my glass?"

"Kurt. I love you," Sam began. "I know you think we're too young, and if it makes you feel any better, we can wait until you're done with school."

"Oh...?" Kurt was just staring at the ring, processing everything. "I guess that's reasonable."

"I just want you to know, that I want to marry you more than anything else in the world..."

Tears welled up in Kurt's eyes. "Sam..." He choked. "God. I told you I was the one who was going to propose."

"But you were gonna make me wait!" Sam reminded him. "I couldn't wait to show you how sure I was that you're the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. I knew it before we had millions of dollars binding us together, and I know it today. Right now. Kurt Hummel, will you please be my husband?"

Kurt couldn't ever get out the words. He nodded, wiping tears off his cheeks. Sam took his glass back from him and shoved his fingers in, fishing out the ring.

"I'll get you one too," Kurt whimpered as Sam slid it effortlessly onto his finger. "I mean, I want you to have one too."

"But how will you afford it?" Sam teased, holding Kurt's hand in his as they both admired how the ring looked. "Jewelry costs a fortune these days."


End file.
